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fanatic564 · 25 days ago

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Hood-lucinations (BatFamilyWeek 2025 Day 1 )

ao3 link

Fandom: Batman All Media Types

Rating: T

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Relationship: Jason Todd & Tim Drake

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Mrs. Mac (DC), Janet Drake, Jack Drake

Tags: batfamilyweek2025, batfamilyweek day 1, scars, enemies to caretaker, accidental brother acquisition, Jason speedrunning adopting Tim, crack treated seriously, bad parent Bruce Wayne, Ah yes a week about the batfam and the love it holds, Me: Ok but what if I make Bruce shitty, for the laughs, jack and janet drake's a+ parenting, child neglect, child abuse, Mrs Mac is a saint, jason and mrs mac is the duo i didnt know i needed until now, beware jason's sailor mouth, boy copes with profanity, hallucinations, no beta reader we die like Jason Todd, Do not post to other sites, POV Third Person

Summary: Jason knows a lot about one Timothy Jackson Drake. Talia made sure of that, for when he enacted his plans in Gotham. He's the Wayne's neighbor: a spoiled rich kid who's likely never known the struggles Jason has. (Bruce really picked the first black haired blue eyed child he saw once Jason was buried six feet deep, huh?) But. Everything he knows, or thinks he knows, about the boy clashes with what he sees in front of him now.

After doing recon into Tim, and not liking what he finds, Jason ends up to following Tim home from patrol. When Tim assumes Jason is a hallucination, Jason decides to use it to force Tim into self-care.

AN: I'm working on Learning Weakness and Abandon Weakness, I promise! I have the next chapters basically written, they just need a lot of revision. But now y'all know part of why I haven't uploaded. I was originally gonna post for Dick Grayson Week last week, but none of the prompts really caught my attention. So here I am for BatFamily week. I probably won't do every day, but I have 2 finished, and 2 others planned/started. So we'll see. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!

Day 1: Scars | Enemy to Caretaker | Reverse Robins AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason knows a lot about one Timothy Jackson Drake. Talia made sure of that, for when he enacted his plans in Gotham. He's the Wayne's neighbor: a spoiled rich kid who's likely never known the struggles Jason has. (Bruce really picked the first black haired blue eyed child he saw once Jason was buried six feet deep, huh?) But. Everything he knows, or thinks he knows, about the boy clashes with what he sees in front of him now.

He's watching from a rooftop, staring down into the alley where Batman and Robin are currently fighting some of his goons. The Red Hood goons are prepared for the fight. Of course they are, Jason trained them after all. They know how to hold their own against Bats. They're a planted distraction anyway, while another group moves the location of their base. So while they don't go down easily, they also aren't necessarily trying to win either. Just stall for time.

Jason decides to use the opportunity to do some recon on the boy. And what he sees doesn't make sense to him. The boy is small. Smaller than even Jason was coming off the streets. Skinny in a way he shouldn't be, given he comes from money. And the scars. The scars.

Most are older than Timothy's time as Robin. Long healed and faded, Jason has to zoom in as far as his helmet lets him in order to see some. But they're there. They're everywhere.

There are more recent ones, too. One's that could be dismissed as Robin business, if it wasn't for the way they obviously weren't treated by Alfred. If Alfred knew about those wounds, he would have forced the boy to let him treat them. So either he was hurt elsewhere, or Alfred never found out about the wounds.

Watching the two figures in the alley, Jason realizes that it could be either option. Batman is barely sparing Robin a glance, too busy beating up the thugs in front of him. Robin has to work twice as hard to make sure both him and Batman remain unharmed. Jason remembers when he was Robin, when the old man and him would watch each other's back, moving like a dance, protecting each other as easily as breathing. But this is nothing like that. Robin is watching Batman's back, taking hits for him that the older man could have easily avoided if he tried. And Batman? The Dark Knight is acting as if Robin isn't even there. Not caring if the boy gets caught in the collateral of his attacks.

Not caring if the boy gets injured right in front of him.

This isn't right. This isn't the Batman and Robin he remembers. The duo he remembers being, remembers seeing in Dick before him. Just what is going on?

Jason's com speaks up. "Base secured, boss. Distraction successful."

"Understood. Team A, keep setting up location. Team B, retreat." Jason throws a smoke bomb down as soon as he finishes speaking. The smoke shrouds the alley between his men and the vigilantes. His men, of course, are prepared for the intervention and use the fog to escape efficiently into the night. Jason uses it to get closer to the two vigilantes to continue observing.

The smoke clears, allowing Jason visuals once more. Batman and Robin stand there looking around for signs of an oncoming attack, or retreating foes, or something. Too bad Jason's men are well trained in stealth. When the two see nothing, Batman turns around and starts stomping away.

"Wait up, B" The boy even sounds small, now that Jason can hear him in the quiet of the post-fight atmosphere.

"They escaped. I need to find them." Batman grunts, and he sounds pissed. More annoyed than Jason thinks is reasonable for something like this.

"Okay," Robin nods. "Let's split up and-"

"Robin, go home. You're hurt and I don't need a liability."

"Hurt? B, They barely scratched me!"

"Go Robin." The finality in his voice cuts off any response. Robin stares at his back as the Dark Knight storms off. Jason can't see the boy's expression behind the domino, but he can only imagine from the frown on his lips that he's not happy.

Alone in the alley, Timothy starts to grumble to himself. Jason has to strain to hear him even from his closer vantage point. "Gee, Robin, thanks for blocking that attack for me. I'm sorry you got hurt in the process. Next time I'll be sure to watch your back too. I promise." Timothy kicks a soda can that was thrown around in the scuffle. "Fuck. If I wanted to get hurt while trying to placate an emotionally unstable adult, I would've just stayed at home. Why am I still doing this?"

And that… is a statement Jason doesn't know how to unpack. He doesn't even have time to try before Timothy takes a deep breath and continues.

"It's for Gotham. Gotham needs Batman. Batman needs Robin. If I wasn't there tonight , B would've gotten hurt. He'd have killed himself by now if I didn't force my way into Robin."

Timothy continues grumbling as he walks out of Jason's hearing range. Jason doesn't bother trying to follow. His mind is full of swirling thoughts, puzzle pieces trying to click together uselessly when he doesn't know the picture he's trying to make. What the fuck is Bruce thinking? Jason would've thought the old man learned his lesson after Jason's death. But no, apparently he's somehow gotten worse at taking care of his child soldiers.

Jason needs more information, damnit. Shifting around his plans regarding Robin in his head, he makes his way to where his men are waiting for him to meet up and give their next orders.

~ ~ ~

If Jason thought he wanted to punch Bruce in the face before, then nothing could've prepared him for how much more he wants to with every detail he learns about the new dynamic duo. Tim is smart, Jason is loath to admit. Smart and clever and kind and empathetic and everything someone would expect Robin to be. Jason sees it with every criminal he secures, with how he checks up on each one after they're bound up. Checking as if there's a reason for them to be ones injured and not their victims. And the victims. Each one he reassures with a smile on his face even as Batman turns his back, already swinging away towards the next culprit.

Don't get Jason started on Batman. He sees how Bruce acts around the kid. Like he's the scum on his shoe. Like he's not worth the title of Robin. Like he's not worth being beside Bruce's side.

And that's just Tim's life as Robin.

Something Tim said won't leave Jason's mind, and with every interaction he witnesses it rears its ugly head more and more. If I wanted to get hurt while trying to placate an emotionally unstable adult, I would've just stayed at home.

Just what the fuck is this kid's home like, for him to say something like that?

Tonight, Jason intends to find out. He's too deep into this mystery now to not look into it.

Jason spends the night trailing behind the dynamic duo. Even with the mask, Jason can see the dark bags underneath the boy's eyes, and he can only wonder how he was able to avoid Alfred's wrath in order to go on patrol. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Robin doesn't allow it to affect his work. There are no rogues out of Arkham right now, so it's only petty thieves and the like out tonight. Robin takes down his share with efficiency and ease. He makes it to the end of the patrol, battered and bruised with only a few small cuts along his arms, and gets into the batmobile to go back to the manor.

Jason doesn't follow them right away. He waits for the batmobile to drive out of sight before revving his motorcycle and speeding down a different path to Bristol. B doesn't need to think they're being followed, and its not like Jason has plans of going into the actual cave anytime soon.

Jason drives to the edge of Wayne property, the edge that borders the Drakes'. Zooming his helmet into the front of Wayne Manor, he sees he's made it just in time. The door is opening, and he watches as Timothy Drake steps outside, no longer in the Robin uniform, looking every way the spoiled rich kid Jason believed he was. He waves a goodbye to Alfred as the butler shuts the door behind him.

Jason analyzes the boy as he crosses the distance between the two properties. He looks for any sign of first aid, despite knowing in his gut he won't see any. The boy was out of the Manor too quickly to have been a victim of Alfie's motherhenning. Even still, Jason watches the boy walk with confidence in his stride, as if he doesn't have untreated injuries coating his body.

That is, until he crosses the invisible boundary between the properties.

One moment, Tim is standing tall, proud, unburdened by the horrors of Gotham an. Then, it's as if the entire world is dumped onto his shoulders. His back slouches, his pace slows, and he heaves a world weary sigh as he continues his trek. He shrinks into himself, somehow even smaller than he was before, and Jason didn't think that was even possible.

There's a limp in his step, and it makes Jason pause. He fails to recall him injuring his foot on patrol tonight. A previous injury? How the hell did he manage to make it all the way through patrol if so? And again, how did it escape Alfie's all-seeing gaze.

The first half of Tim's journey took him ten minutes top, to get from the steps of Wayne Manor to the property boundaries. The second half takes twenty as Tim limps his way across the lawn. He takes the steps one at a time, before finally making his way into his own Manor.

Jason waits until the front door is long closed before moving closer. He leaves his bike hidden in some shrubbery and begins his own trek across the lawn. It barely takes him five minutes with his long strides. All the lights in the manor are off, which isn't too surprising given the time of night. But Jason can't help feeling something's wrong. He creeps up the front porch, and tries the doorknob, shocked when it opens with ease. Do the Drakes not lock their front door? Thinking back, he doesn't recall Tim pulling out a key to get in himself. Are they just asking to be robbed? Jason knows quite a few people who would pay good money for this information.

Slipping inside, Jason silently shuts the door behind him. The foyer is dark, but Jason can see a dim light coming from down one wing. He creeps in that direction, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Peeking around a corner, Jason sees a figure in what looks like a kitchen. It's Tim, searching through some empty looking cabinets.

"Coffee, coffee. Fuck. Did I finish the coffee?" Jason stares at the boy, who's haphazardly standing on a stool to look in the upper cabinets. Why the fuck is he looking for coffee at this hour?

"Are you sure you should be drinking coffee at this time of night?" Jason can't stop himself from commenting. So much for silently observing, he chides himself. At least his voice modulator makes him sound more intimidating and less confused than he actually is.

Tim doesn't jump. He just closes the cabinet with a sigh and turns to face him. He's still standing on the stool, looking down at Jason with a blank stare. "Well, that's a new record."

Jason blinks. "…what?"

"It's only been 35 hours since I last slept. Usually the hallucinations don't start until at least 40." Tim jumps off the stool, and Jason doesn't know if he should step closer to make sure the boy doesn't fall in his injured and exhausted state, or step away in shock at his statement. He stays right where he is as a compromise. Tim takes a curious step even closer."I gotta say. Red Hood's a new one though. I wonder why? I know we faced those goons of his a couple weeks ago, but B's been keeping me away from cases involving him. Or maybe that's exactly why? Maybe it's my brain telling me to look further into him?"

"Or you could not do that?"

"That's exactly what a real Red Hood would want. Which means I should do the opposite."

What the fuck is wrong with this kid? Jason is beyond confused at this point. Why has he been up so long? Why is he familiar with how long it takes for him to start hallucinating from sleep deprivation? Why is this a normal enough occurrence that hallucination is his mind's first thought.

"I wonder if my subconscious put a face under the helmet? Hey HalluciHood. Hoolucination? Whatever. Take off your helmet. Let's see who I think is underneath."

Fucking. What? No seriously, what the fuck? You should not ask a known crime lord to reveal their identity. Even if they're an assumed hallucination!

Jason's first instinct should be to refuse. Of fucking course it should be. His first instinct should be for the anger to well up inside of him at the mere suggestion, for him to lash out in rage at the kid for the nerve. But instead, there's nothing. No anger, no rage. No instant rejection. This conversation has gone in so many wild directions and Jason is blindsided on what to do.

Although Jason's gotta admit, he's a little curious on how the kid will react.

…Fuck it. Tim thinks he's hallucinating anyway. Jason reaches up to disable the safety features on his helmet. Then, before he can second guess himself anymore, he takes it off.

Tim barely reacts. He just nods his head. "That makes sense. Who else to put under the helmet but my most common hallucination? Easier than conjuring up a new one."

Jason… doesn't think he can take any more plot twists from this kid. "Oh? Who am I, then?" He just has to check. There's no fucking way this kid knows who he is from just a glance. Actually, important question, why the fuck did he imply he regularly hallucinates Jason?

"Existential crisis. Love it, Jason. Although that's usually not till the 50 hour mark."

"Jesus Fuck, kid." Jason's done. He's just done. Just who the fuck is taking care of this kid? Why the hell aren't they doing their job? Actually, on that note. If it's been over 30 hours since he slept, then… "When's the last time you ate?"

Tim shrugs. Fucking shrugs. "You would know better than me, subconscious." He plops onto a stool at the island in the middle of the room. "Maybe I should grab a granola bar before I get to work."

That's it. Jason is going to find every adult who's supposed to take care of this child and knock some fucking sense into them. Jason stomps over to the fridge. Opening it, he stares in shock at the emptiness in front of him. A carton of eggs, some spoiled milk, and what looks like a pre-prepared plate of food. Jason grabs that and shoves it into the microwave. For now, it's better than nothing.

While that heats up, Jason looks back over to Tim. The boy is laying with his head on the counter, his eyes half shut as he struggles to stay awake. The microwave dings and the boy doesn't even move.

He does move, however, when Jason all but slams the plate in front of him with a growl. "Bon appétit."

Tim stares at the plate for a moment before starting to mutter to himself. "Okay. Selective memory. Somehow I got up, heated up Mrs. Mac's leftovers, and brought it back here, only to block the memory to make it seem like Halluci-Jason made me the food. Cool. Great." Tim lets out a dark chuckle. "God, I must be fucking lonely if I have to resort to this to feel like someone cares for me."

Every time Jason feels as if the kid can't throw anything worse at Jason, he proves him wrong. "Just eat the food then go to fucking bed."

Tim actually listens, which feels like a fucking miracle. When he goes to wash his plate, Jason shoo's him off. "I'll clean the fucking plate. Go. The Fuck. To Bed."

Tim nods silently, and Jason can see the exhaustion catching up to him. A full belly of food will do that to a person. If the boy doesn't sleep for at least twelve hours, Jason will eat his helmet.

After checking to make sure the boy actually reaches his bed, Jason flops down onto the island stool himself. He groans. What the fuck is wrong with this kid? No, a better question is: what the fuck is wrong with every single adult in this kid's life? Including Bruce and Alfred. Hell, even Dick should have noticed something off with the boy!

So what does Jason know? Tim has a habit of going long periods of time without eating or sleeping. There's someone named Mrs. Mac that Jason needs to look into, who prepares food for Tim. Even if he doesn't actually end up eating it. Where are the boy's parents? Why aren't they keeping an eye on their boy's habits?

Jason groans again. The biggest question is just what has he gotten himself into?

~ ~ ~

Tim sleeps for over twelve hours. In fact he sleeps for fifteen. Jason keeps an eye on him the whole time, not knowing what else to do while he mulls over the information he's learned.

Jason doesn't realize Tim's awake until he suddenly shoots out of bed.

"Fuck!" His yell wakes Jason from his doze. Jason jumps to his feet, immediately on the defensive. When he sees nothing that can be deemed a threat, he relaxes slightly.

"Tim, what the fuck?" He snaps at the boy, who's currently untangling himself from his blankets.

"Shit, I wasn't supposed to go to sleep until I finished the case I promised! B's expecting it ASAP. Fuck, he's gonna be mad."

"Kid, if you tried working on anything last night, it would have been nothing but nonsense. Surely Bruce will understand. Hell, he shouldn't have even let you patrol last night with how tired you were."

"Yeah right." Tim scoffs. "Like Bruce has ever cared about my well-being. Come on HalluciJason, you should know that by now. So long as I'm useful he couldn't give less of a shit."

Jason has to stop himself from storming next door and giving Bruce a piece of his mind. Just what the fuck is he thinking? He takes a deep breath to calm himself before speaking.

"Ok. Ok. Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna go downstairs, and try to scrounge together some breakfast for us. While I do that, you're gonna follow and answer some questions for me. Call it… self-reflection. Analyzing your own situation and seeing where you can improve or some shit. You understand?"

Tim hums. "Self-reflection, huh. Not sure what I'll gain from it, but what's the harm? Ask away, Jay!"

~ ~ ~

Jason doesn't know what he expects to hear about the kid's life, but he's pretty sure it's not this.

Tim's parents aren't home. Are barely ever fucking home, if the boy's rambling mutters are to be believed. And boy does he ramble. It's as if the thought of having someone to listen to him opens the floodgates of Tim's thoughts, even if that someone is a supposed hallucination.

The boy has been basically on his own since he was seven. Longer really, but that was when his parents decided to downsize the hired help taking care of him.

"Seven is a perfectly reasonable age to stop needing a nanny, Timothy." Tim quotes his parents. Jason wants to punch something when he says that.

Mrs. Mac is the one housekeeper the Drakes keep around. A saint of a woman, in Jason's opinion, but she can only do so much during the three days a week she's there. Tim goes on and on about the meals she prepares for him, the cleaning she does, the idle chatter she initiates when Tim's home. The woman deserves an award for single handedly keeping Tim alive.

By the end of his questions, Jason is already plotting a way to unofficially move into Drake Manor. Tim needs an adult in his life God damnit, someone to take care of him cause he sure as fuck can't do it himself. Never mind that Jason isn't technically an adult, but eh, details. The manor is big, with plenty of spare rooms, so he knows there's enough space for him to have his own space.

After making sure Tim eats his breakfast, Jason gets to work. Hopefully Tim won't get himself killed in the time it takes Jason to pick out a room and make a list of things that need to get done. Most important is grocery shopping. Because Jason cannot stand the state of the Drake's kitchen pantry.

The rest of the day blurs by. While checking on Tim every few hours, Jason catalogs the state of the manor. He makes a list of anything he needs to get in order to care for two growing teenage boys (as much as Jason doesn't want to consider himself one). At one point he races to his apartment to pick up his own things. It takes a few trips, with Jason only having a side-car on his motorcycle to carry things in. Each time he returns, he checks on Tim, only to see him right where he left him. Sitting at a table on his laptop, working on the case he mentioned this morning.

Eventually, Jason finishes moving everything he needs for now into the room he picked out. It's a decent sized room in the guest wing, far from the family wing with little chance of discovery. Not that there's many people who are home to discover it. He unpacks the necessities, taking the time to change out of his Red Hood outfit while he does. Tim already knows who he is after all. Soon, he decides he's done for the day. It's almost dinner-time, and Jason is certain Tim didn't eat lunch.

When Jason returns to Tim once more, he's still in the same spot, looking as if he hasn't even fucking blinked since Jason last checked.

"That's it." Jason walks up to Tim and closes the lid of his laptop. Tim goes to complain, but before he can Jason slings him over his shoulder like the sack of potatoes he is. Geezus, this kid needs to gain some weight.

"Put me down." Tim cries. He punches and kicks, but Jason barely feels it.

"No can do, Timbit. It's dinner time, and you've been doing nothing but staring at that screen all day. How are your eyes not killing you?"

"I'm almost done! I just need to finish this case and then I'll eat."

"Nope. You're done for the day. If I let you continue, you'd go all night." Jason has a realization. "Besides, isn't it a school night?"

"I'll just skip and hack the attendance list like usual." Yeah not on Jason's fucking watch.

"You should feel fucking privileged to be able to go to school at all, kid. You are not skipping on my watch."

Tim has stopped kicking at this point, but he doesn't let up on his complaints. "God, I miss Robin HalluciJason. At least he let me do my work while telling me all my faults. And didn't force me to go to school"

Jason has learned at this point to just ignore the vague comments implying the state of Tim's health and mental health until a later point. If only to preserve his own mental health. "Yeah yeah, I'm the worst. What do you want for dinner?"

Dinner is a silent affair. Jason makes stir-fry out of the ingredients he bought while bringing his things to the manor. Tim takes it in stride, assuming Mrs. Mac prepared extra meals that he heated up and promptly forgot. Jason doesn't bother to correct him.

He corrals the kid to bed shortly after, knowing he needs it.

~ ~ ~

Jason sits in the manor kitchen dressed in his Red Hood outfit. The only light surrounding him is the dim natural light from the few windows in the room. Tim left for school a couple hours ago, leaving Jason alone. But not for long.

He hears the front door open. The humming of an older woman fills the silent manor. Footsteps make their way in Jason's direction. The kitchen lights turn on. The humming is replaced with shocked silence.

"Hello Mrs. Mac."

She doesn't scream like Jason expects her to. Instead, her eyes narrow, and her hands sneak into the purse at her hip.

"Why is the Red Hood all the way in Bristol?"

"So you've heard of me?"

"I like to keep up with current events. And honey? You're definitely a current event." Jason laughs. He winces a little as his helmet distorts it into something a little more intimidating. It doesn't seem to bother Mrs. Mac though as she continues. "So I ask again, why are you here?"

"I've taken an… invested interest in the Drake family. Specifically one Timothy Jackson Drake."

Instantly, Mrs. Mac's eyes go cold and her grip tightens on whatever she has in her purse. "What could you possibly want with the boy? He's done nothing wrong."

"You're right. He's not the one who's done something wrong. It's every other fucking adult in his life, aside from you." She tilts her head in question, her eyes still narrowed. "Relax, Ma'am. I'm not here to hurt you or him. Come. Sit. Let's talk."

"And how do I know I can trust you?"

"You're the one who keeps up with current events. So you should know my rule about hurting kids." Jason makes a split second decision. "But I suppose I can trade some trust for trust."

Jason is glad he put on his domino under the helmet as he pulls it off. Mrs. Mac gasps, although Jason doesn't see recognition in her eyes. Her stance relaxes as her hand loosens in her purse.

"You're just a boy." She whispers as she moves towards the seat Jason gestured to before. "What are you doing as a Crime Lord?"

"There's a reason I protect the kids, Ma'am. I used to be one of them."

"Used to be? Honey, you still are one." Jason has to hold down the blush as she stares at him with such kind eyes. The exact opposite of how they looked at him at the beginning of their conversation.

"We're not here to talk about me." Jason redirects. "We're here about Tim."

"Yes. Little Timothy. Such a good boy. Although, I'm still not sure why you're interested in him."

"It's… personal." She stares at him as though expecting him to elaborate. "I can't say much more without spilling secrets that aren't just mine to share. But recent events have made me aware of Tim's home life and I just can't let the kid stay like this."

Mrs. Mac nods her head. "I know what you mean. I try to help, but I can only push so much before I fear his parents will fire me. So I leave more food than I'm paid to provide, I give him company when I can, and I try to make the house seem as lived in as possible."

"From now on I am going to help." Jason states firmly. "I've taken over a room in the guest wing, and I've bought some groceries to make him food. Fucking kid thinks I'm a hallucination but honestly that might be for the best. He might interact more freely with me and let himself relax more that way. And fuck does he need to relax."

"I mean I would think that too, if the Red Hood started motherhening me." She chuckles.

"Never mind the dead kid next door." Silence. Oh. Right. She doesn't know that part. "Uh, any chance you could forget that part?"

She takes a moment to stare at him. He's not sure what she finds, but she nods her head.

"I'll let it slide for now. We are, after all, talking about Timothy here." Jason gives her an appreciative smile. Jason has a feeling they're gonna work nicely together.

~ ~ ~

It goes like this. Mrs. Mac comes to the manor late Monday mornings, early Wednesday afternoons, and late Friday afternoons. When she comes, she brings groceries, snacks, two days worth of pre-made dinners for two. (When Jason offered to pay her back, she shoved a cookie in his hands and promptly told him to fuck off, albeit in kinder words).

Jason learns a little more about Tim's home life from Mrs. Mac. The Drakes are away for months on end, Jason knows that, but for the little time they are home they act as if Tim isn't even there. Mrs. Mac barely sees the boy when the Drake's are home. He's always hiding in his room or in some part of the house his parents are not. Who knows if or when he's eating during those times.

Jason's still not sure what to do about Bruce. He knows for damn sure he can't convince Tim to stop being Robin (he tried, it didn't go well), so all he can do is help the boy tend to his injuries while plotting how he's going to confront the Waynes.

Time passes. Tim loses some of the bags under his eyes, and even gains a little weight. His injuries are properly cared for and his scars fade little by little.

And then, news of the Drakes' return.

~ ~ ~

The night before their scheduled arrival, Jason stands in the kitchen cooking dinner with Tim laying his head on the island counter. His eyes are closed. Jason's pretty sure his logic at this point is if he doesn't see anything, he won't freak out over 'missing' memories. Jason just leaves him be.

When the food is done, Jason sets a plate out for each of them. "Eat up, Timbo."

Tim lifts his head and stares at the food. "I wonder. With my parents home, will you disappear? I mean, I technically won't be alone anymore, so there'd be no reason for you to be here. And I've been sleeping more lately too."

"Who knows, Timmy? I might just surprise you."

Tim scoffs. "Yeah, you're right. Just cause they're home, doesn't mean I'll be any less lonely."

Jason closes his eyes so Tim doesn't see the boiling anger that fills them at the statement. "I'll take care of you, baby bird. I promise."

"Baby bird?"

"Cause you're Robin, and you're so small."

Tim squawks in response. "I'm not small!"

"Sure you're not." He ruffles Tim's hair. Tim bats his hand away before finally picking up his fork to eat, directing the conversation elsewhere.

~ ~ ~

It takes all of three hours for Jason to start planning the Drakes' murder. Well, actually it takes all of ten minutes. The three hours is how long it takes Jack and Janet Drake to acknowledge their son's existence.

"Timothy, your hair has gotten too long. Schedule an appointment to cut it."

"Timothy, why is that shirt not in the trash?"

"Timothy, look your mother in the eyes when she's talking to you."

Timothy Timothy Timothy

Jason watches it all from the shadows, eyes like a hawk as he analyzes everything the Drakes do and say. Because, there's still one thing Tim said, back on that first day, that won't leave Jason's mind. That hasn't left his mind since the boy said it. That's been plaguing him for weeks since Jason first started staying at the manor.

If I wanted to get hurt while trying to placate an emotionally unstable adult, I would've just stayed at home.

"What was that, boy?"

"I-I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

"You ungrateful brat!" A hand is lifted. Jason doesn't think. He just moves.

Faster than even a speedster, Jason flies out of the shadows behind Jack and Janet and grabs Jack's raised hand.

"What the-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jason snarls, the helmet doing nothing to hide the pure venom in his words. Janet steps away from him in fear. Jack tries to do the same, but the harsh grasp on his wrist stops him.

"Wh-who are you? What are you doing in our house?" Jack tries to steady his voice, to make his words demanding, but all Jason hears is the terror lacing every syllable. Jason smiles harshly, not that anyone can see it.

"Haven't you heard of me? I'm the Red Hood." Jason twists Jack's arm, hearing the man cry out in pain. "And I have opinions about people who hurt kids."

"You have no right to be here." Janet seems to have gained some of her own footing. easier for her when her arm isn't seconds away from snapping. "Leave before I call the police."

"I'm pretty sure at this point I have more right to be here than you do. I've been here for months now. I've provided food, I've bought the goddamn toilet paper, I've been taking care of your fucking kid. Isn't that right, Timmy?"

Jason spares a glance towards Tim for the first time since he entered the scene. His eyes are wide, not in fear like his parents, but in shock.

"Yo-you're real?"

Jason chuckles. "Really kid, the hallucination excuse died that first day after I forced you to sleep. How you convinced yourself for this long is beyond me."

"Then that means…" Quiet, so quiet Jason has to read his lips to know what he says, he finishes. "Jason."

Jason doesn't respond before his attention snaps back to Jack trying to escape his grasp. "We'll talk later, baby bird. For now, just say the word and I'll deal with your little problem here."

"No!" Tim shakes out of his shock in order to grab the hand on Jack's wrist. "Ja-Hood. Don't kill them. Please!"

"Why not? They're shitty people who have no right being the parents of such an amazing kid like you. The world would be better without them in it."

"Please, Hood." Jason looks into Tim's pleading eyes and sighs. Goddamn Robin puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine." But because he can, he snaps Jack's arm, causing the man to scream out in pain. "Just remember that your son is the reason you're alive to feel this. Both of you," he takes a moment to stare Janet in the eyes as well, "be fucking grateful. If I hear that you've so much as raised your voice at Tim, I won't be as merciful."

Jason lets go of Jack's broken arm and starts to walk towards the front door. He pauses to look behind him at Tim. "Come on, kid. I think we deserve some fucking ice cream."

Everything isn't perfect. The two have a lot to talk about now that Tim knows Jason is really alive (and a Crime Lord). They need to talk about Bruce, and Alfred, and Dick, and Mrs. Mac, and Robin, and… just so many things. But, as Tim races to catch up to Jason, barely glancing at his parents before grabbing Jason's outstretched hand, Jason thinks that everything's gonna be better from here on out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END NOTE:

I hope y'all enjoyed! I'm not sure how I feel about this, it feels a lot more rushed than I hoped. But it's good enough to post. I'll see y'all tomorrow for day 2.

Feel free to point out any mistakes.

#batfamilyweek2025 #batfamily #batfam #more tags in the text #child abuse #child neglect #bad parent bruce wayne #enemies to caretaker #batfamilyweek day 1 #fanatic fics

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dark-falz · 1 year ago

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PSO Timeline of the Profound Sadness (Detailed lore timeline regarding Episodes 1&2,)

There's also stuff about Phantasy Star 0 in here too because they take place in the same universe! But I'm trash and didn't beat it and it was years ago so idr shit I'll go back to it one day ok promise anyway

LONG LORE POST completely spoiler

Inhabited planet Coral is drained of natural resources. The government, organizations called "The Alliance of Nations" (includes 10) , and "Black Paper" initiate the "Pioneer Project" to find a new planet to colonize. They are gifted from a passing asteroid with Photon energy. They use it to backtrack where it came from to find a place to inhabit. After approx. 7 years, Ragol is found. Coral mentions; Shino: RAcaseal, purchased & passed down to Zoke Dr. Calus: was working on an AI, also named Calus, who developed his personality. Calus dies before the AI is completed. Dr. Jean Montague: 11 yrs. old approx, researches D-Cells brought back from probes with Dr. Osto, create MAGs* which are the beginning of the MOTHER/Delta program 7 yearsish later (travel is heavily disputed among sources apparently but w/e) The people on Pioneer 1 included; Heathcliff Flowen: Deputy Army Commander Rico Tyrell: Pupil of Flowen, Scientist, Hunter Dr. Osto Hyle: Lead researcher Mr. & Mrs. Graves: Photon Engineer, Geneticist WORKS (Government military) AI: Olga, Calus, & Vol Opt (meant to assist with Pioneer 1 research and step 2 of MOTHER) - AI Purposes: - Vol Opt: Security - Calus: Information - Olga: Contact, nearly identical specs to Calus (unsure if these two count as AI as they aren't mentioned much) - MOTHER: evolution & control - Delta: Caretaker of MOTHER Established buildings Gal Da Val Island - Research Facility (Houses Delta/MOTHER Vortex and will house Olga) Mines - Robot building plant (+All mine enemies) - Houses Calus (EPI)& Vol Opt - Dr. Osto's first lab (mines 2) Forest - Central Dome: supplies, communication center

Exploration begins followed quickly by construction. Animals are noted as friendly and docile.

Dr. Osto & Graves create a mutant life form for unmentioned reasons, it starts off small, but has the ability to self-replicate.

Ruins are discovered by Flowen. Military WORKS sends in investigation team. Everyone becomes possessed, then dies turning into the bad guys as portrayed in the quest: From the Depths. Flowen leads a second team in. Falz is unsealed and kills everyone but Flowen, leaving him wounded. When he escapes, Falz is sealed again.

Flowen's wound is infected with both D-Cells and Parasitic Gene Flow, causing them to be alive in their own. Osto calls this a "D-Type Factor". Flowen knows his time is short, and pledges his body to Dr. Osto for research under 2 conditions. - A letter is set to his family informing them of his death. - That pioneer 2 is postponed/stopped from reaching Ragol (Spoilers: Neither request are honored)

Flowen is unaware of the Central Control Area's existance until he is brought there.

Olga is moved to the SeaBed, where Osto had been working on developing a super soldier. Construction of the Cental Dome is completed. Flowen's body is merged with Olga in hopes of controlling it. In failure Olga Flow is dumped into the Testing Subject Disposal Area.

Scientists tried moving De Rol due to his size. De Rol kills the scientists and escapes through the ducts. Its tentacles that stab you during battle is what caused the mutation of the cave's dwellings'. (Barbra Ray is a speculated open or salt-water variant)

War continues on Coral and the 10 Nation Alliance is weakening. Instead of telling the Government to stop Pioneer 2, Osto calls Ragol a "Paradise World" and gets the approval to make bioweapons.* Pioneer 2 starts route.

Animals becoming violent and infected causes Rico to begin investigating. Rico activates the pillars upon investigating them, being under the impression they were built to commemorate the landing of Pioneer 1 from the government, however concluding this was a lie. Rico investigates until her demise and leaves confirming messages that: the ruins is a spaceship from the Algo star system of the Original Phantasy Star series to seal Dark Falz, the reborn Profound Darkness every 1000 years to reborn itself from hate as the seal weakens.

On Pioneer 2, Dr. Montague is working on developing Elenor/Mother 00 and Ult/Mother 01 and Elly Person begins contact with Calus.

Pioneer 2 reaches Ragol (approx 7 years)

Explosion caused by Dark Falz in Central Dome occurs when connection is attempted, everyone from Pioneer 1 is killed with the exceptions of Mutated Rico & Mutated Flowen.

Vol Opt's security system is breached due to explosion and corrupted due to unusual Photons & D Cells causing everything in the Mines to attack.

Calus reaches out to Elly for "help" but has been corrupted and craves a human body. Elly backs up & stores his data before he shuts himself down.

Military attempts to take over Ult following Dr. Osto's plans. Eleanor & Ult fuse to become MOTHER, briefly, as due to abnormal Photon energies, its too much for Eleanor.

Calus data is used by Pioneer 2 to begin development of the "CALs system." This is part of a navigation system any Hunter can access. (Like Rico's messages, the floating things that drop you info in episode 2, is part of "Calus".)

Natasha Milarose receives a message from someone on Ragol leaving the impression that someone from Pioneer 1 is still alive on Gal Da Val Island.

Going through VR testing with Elly before permission to reach the island, Calus has form of a FOmar. (techincally there are 2 one with red eyes and one with blue eyes, one loves Elly and wants to be with her aw the other is always basically on the clock doing what its suppose to. ((Assuming this is due to abnormal photons and having 2 of the same system on top of each other which is CAL system active in VR field as well as on Elly, the operator, but no info.)))

Flowen leaves messages using Olga AI through the terminals you use to unlock the Central Control Area. (all terminals in the Seabed belong to Olga)

Calus enters the MOTHER vortex in expectation of being evolved with a true physical form to be with Elly.

Delta admits Dr. Osto abandoned her and the MOTHER system. (though the "abandonment" could have been due to a multitude of reasons with how full his hands were getting.)

I think this mostly wraps up the timeline covering entirely episodes 1&2

Extra stuff:

Flowen's full dialogue

MAG* - "A mag is a core of D-Cells surrounded by metal plating. The D-Cells are kept in control by an "Emotional AI". This means any mag is actually a cyborg of some sort, because they are a fusion of living and mechanical tissue. This is also why spraying them with various medical items causes them to change their shape so drastically.

"This is also why they can do the Photon Blast. The mag is able to absorb the energy from your photonic attacks on enemies, and also to absorb the pain from hits and turn it into photon. They had mags doing PBs on Coral, where the blasts did not take on a particular shape. The things you see in your PBs on Ragol look the way they do because the abnormal photon count, and D-cell count on Ragol is really high. The PB animals look like dark enemies, but with light color bodies. This is the influence of Ragol." - Translated from The Book of Hunters (Eleanor & Ult also carry D-cells)

Bioweapons - The bioweapons scientists of Pioneer 1 were making included using D-Cells, Parasitic Gene Flow, and living beings. This extended from animals, to plants, to even the scientists themselves in efforts of creating a "super solder". The reason behind this is because Falz is seen as an eternal entity, and that's what the scientists want to harness for themselves. Montague does a similar process, but instead using monster parts and photon energy from the mutated creatures, as oppose to mutated genes, to create weapons.

Links to information that helped me accumulate all this: phantasystardynasty PScave (I have dialogue with Flowen's text linked, if you want dialogue from another quest, just change the text between "script/" and ".html" to the quest of the dialogue you want to look out without spaces) Fandom Wiki (multiple pages from this one) This Tumblr post

#pso lore #FIXED THE READ MORE I'M NOT FIXNG ANY TYPOS tho because at first this post was too big to post and i'm not taking chances #lore #timeline

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whumpsday · 10 months ago

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Whumpmas in July #2

What are your top three favorite whump tropes?

so i'm gonna add a caveat to this question: my top three favorite whump tropes that i haven't gushed about for previous WIJ prompts. here's those, if you want to take a look:

Whumper-turned-Whumpee

Nonhuman whumpee & Desperate begging whumpee

Immortal whumpee

those are definitely some of my tip-top favorites, but i'll allow something else to take the spotlight for once, lest i repeat myself. these aren't in any particular order.

Tiny Whump

my love of tiny whump is no secret. in fact, i love tiny stuff even outside of whump, which is why i'm also in the giant/tiny community (my blog for that is @smallsday). but since i love g/t and whump, there's no reason not to do both at the same time!

the thing about tiny whump is that it makes everything more terrifying. to someone who's only a few inches tall, even a regular human is a massive threat. this not only creates more unique & creative opportunities for whump, but adds an inherent element of fear into any mixed-size caretaker dynamics. if a tiny whumpee is rescued from some sort of whump situation, they're going to be scared of the (from their perspective) giant who rescued them, too! no matter how kind a caretaker is, there is always an unbalanced power dynamic, and i love seeing characters navigate that.

(the rest of the post is under the keep-reading)

Deprivation of Basic Needs

this is a classic that encompasses so many wonderful types of whump, and i have used it extensively in my main story with Kane's starvation. i'm talking about stuff allll the way at the bottom of the hierarchy of needs.

TAKE IT AWAY! whumpees don't need that stuff! or at least, they don't need more of it than they require to survive. this is why i love immortal whumpees and nonhuman whumpees so much. humans are fragile enough that there's only so much suffering they can endure before ending up dead. and dead is no fun, because then there's no more suffering! an immortal whumpee, or a less-fragile nonhuman whumpee, can reach so much greater heights of deprivation.

this trope comes in many forms. starvation, dehydration, suffocation, and sleep deprivation are the most common, and they're all classics. cold whump and heat whump fulfill similar niches. it's a physical-based trope in general, but you can even get a little more psychological with it and deprive a whumpee of stuff like clothing, hygiene, bedding, shelter, space to move around in, and other things we'd consider basics but aren't necessarily immediately critical to survival. sensory deprivation is also common.

i've also had an idea knocking around in my head about getting more... niche with it, probably in a lab whump setting. there are so many basic needs and bodily functions that a whumper wouldn't be able to deprive a whumpee of under normal circumstances, but if a lab whumper tried really hard, they could get it done--especially if the whumpee possessed some level of immortality. deprive them of the ability to move at all. take away their ability to pee. take away their ability to blink, as their eyes dry up painfully. TAKE AWAY THEIR HEART'S ABILITY TO BEAT, for an immortal whumpee who will remain painfully aware through it all even as their body reacts in utmost panic. in the world of fiction, anything is possible.

Enemy Caretaker

i looooove an enemy caretaker. with known, friendly caretakers, such as friends, family, and partners, there is an element of trust. this lowers the tension, so this tends to be my least favorite kind of caretaker, though i do like it still. with stranger caretakers, there is an element of distrust and suspense. whumpee is still afraid, they can't trust this complete random who's come to their rescue, they need to build up a relationship. i love that!!!

but there is something even better than the stranger caretaker: the enemy. the person whumpee knows hates them, the person whumpee knows they have every reason to fear, especially at their most vulnerable. i'm not talking about "one good-hearted member of the organization responsible for whumpee's torment leaves said organization and rescues them". i'm talking about whumpee's personal enemy. someone they have a storied mutual hatred with. someone who has every reason to leave them for dead or even actively make it worse.

but they don't. they put their history aside and help whumpee, despite everything. and yet! whumpee would still be afraid of them, right? why wouldn't they be? their life is in the hands of someone with a potential grudge. but it all works out, with double that relationship-building needing to be done.

my favorite type of enemy caretaker is a former whumpee put in a position where they're helping their whumper-now-turned-whumpee. i love to see a role reversal like that where the whumpee is now the one with all the power and the whumper gets to be scared. but i love all types of enemy caretakers!

@whumpmasinjuly

#wij24day2 #whumpmasinjuly2024

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jeannereames · 2 years ago

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What was Alexander's relationship, if there was enough interaction that he would remember, with Lanike like (I don't know if that's how her name was spelled)? Would it be different or similar, or nothing at all, to what someone feels for their mother? Was Alexander the type to form lasting bonds with people? Mary Renault wrote him as affectionate and loving with people, but I honestly don't really know what to believe when I read about him. Things are usually conflicting, or as I've come to realize, made up entirely.

Thanks!

Lanike, Alexander's Affections and Royal Eugetism

There are really two questions here, so let me deal with the larger one first: Alexander’s ability to feel real affection.

I don’t think his reputation for forming intense bonds with people is false, or even much exaggerated. Nor is his tendency to fly off the handle in a rage. These are, really, two sides of one coin.*

In general, the Greeks were (and still are) more emotionally expressive than most Anglophone societies. Furthermore, in ancient Greece, to help one’s friends and hurt one’s enemies was considered model ethical behavior. Both Alexander and his father Philip were actively competitive in displays of generosity. The times they act uncharacteristically like a bull in a China shop are part of constructed narratives meant to make them conform to ideas about barbarian tyrants, particularly in the hands of later Roman authors such as Curtius, but also Plutarch of the Second Sophistic. Or with Philip, Demosthenes’ and Theopompos’ need to portray Philip as a despot who Tyche (Fortune) allowed to beat the Truly Hellenic Athens/South Greece. So, when they seem to act weirdly against their own diplomatic interests, perhaps consider the source. (Literally. Consider the source, and when he was writing.)

Macedonia, in contrast to (some of) the cities to the south such as Athens who had sumptuary laws, was a gift-exchange society. For that matter, so was earlier (Archaic and prior) Greece, as well as other city-states (not-Athens). One achieved more honor and fame for how much one gave away, not necessarily how much one had.

Generosity made the Man. It also made the Woman. An important social function of the wives of Macedonian kings, as well as of other wealthy citizens in Macedonia and elsewhere (including into the Hellenistic and later Roman eras), was to give donations to this or that city project, temple, building, etc.

Eurgetism.

By all accounts, Alexander took real joy in giving things away. Sometimes lavishly. This cemented his status as The Bestest King in the Whole Wide World. Certainly the richest. Near the end of his life, he spent ridiculous amounts of money every evening just on royal suppers.

ALL of this is about Display as Status. As well as rules of hospitality.

I explain all that to help give some cultural context to Alexander’s fabled generosity. Yes, I think it was very real. It was also absolutely culturally expected of him.

So his reputation for honoring friends and allies in lavish ways shouldn’t be unexpected. He also appears to have been affectionate and even thoughtful towards those he considered friends and allies. Ergo, I think his affection for his childhood nurse would be quite genuine.

Now to the second question, which involves the role a nurse had in an infant’s life…. In cultures that strongly emphasize the nuclear family, and for those of us who didn’t grow up wealthy enough to have “house staff,” it may feel unclear how to understand the role of a wetnurse. So let’s quickly frame that role in traditional Greek (and Macedonian) society.

Wetnurses were typically either slave women or from poor families who needed to supplement income. That Alexander had a noblewoman as a wetnurse was extraordinary. (Just as it was to have a prince [of Epiros] as a lesson-master.)

Ancient Greece had two “house-slave” categories devoted to the caretaking of children: the wet-nurse and the paidogogos (pedagogue). The former was, for wealthier families, the caretaker of children of both genders while the mother saw to the business of running an estate (or at least a larger farm). The paidogogos, however, was exclusively for male children old enough to leave the home (go to school, to the gymnasion, etc.), largely as a baby-sitter, to keep the kid out of trouble. There appears to have been genuine affection between some children and their slave caretakers. But also examples of wetnurses and paidogogoi who just didn’t give two figs. No doubt this reflected how they were, themselves, treated by their owners. (And that could devolve into a complicated discussion about slavery in antiquity, but… go and read my friend and colleague, Peter Hunt’s book, Ancient Greek and Roman Slavery.)

In Alexander’s case, these individuals weren’t slaves, which simplified (and complicated) his relationships with them. On the one hand, it removed the utter dependence/lack of autonomy any slave (however well-treated) would have experienced. But—as with the institution of the Pages, who were nobility doing slave work as body-servants to the king—it involved the “reduction” of elites to unfree occupations. That hovered between honor and humiliation. It’s an honor because he's royalty, but….

For most of us, who, again, didn’t grow up wealthy, having “house staff” is unfamiliar. Ergo, the complicated dynamics of such is equally unfamiliar. That said, I think seeing the wetnurse as another mother may not be the best analogy (except in cases where the mother might really have been distant/absent).

I’d compare it to AUNTIES. A lot of societies have aunties (both literal and honorary) who play super-important roles in children’s lives. Those aunties may even have children of their own (cousins, again literal and honorary), but that doesn’t lessen their impact on their nieces and nephews. Or how they can be loved in a way similar to, but different than a mother. (Or how they can be exasperating in a way similar to, but different than a mother!)

So, for many of us, probably the best analogy for Lanike’s role in Alexander’s life would be a beloved auntie.

* This is also why I find attempts to paint him as a psychopath/sociopath or megalomaniac (e.g., narcissistic personality disorder) unfounded. A characteristic of both is inability to empathize or have strong emotions for people outside the self (and occasionally a very few select others). If he were any of those, he’d manipulate the hell out of people, but not feel much himself. His affections and rages seem far too spontaneous for that.

#asks #Alexander the Great #wetnurses in Greek society #generosity in ancient Greek society #Lanike #Alexander the Great's affection for friends and family #Classics #ancient history #ancient Greek family ties

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positivelybeastly · 1 year ago

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"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh, unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . .

Blood.

A clatter, a turn of a stomach. And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

[At the risk of tossing in the entire post, I will just include this portion. Amazing. Spectacular. Incredible.]

You do me entirely too much credit, friend. 🩵

So, this was something I've been wanting to write for a while now - the creation of Dark Beast, so many years ago in the Age of Apocalypse - and it's mostly because we have no idea what his early life was actually like. We can guess a bit, based on what we know about 616 Hank and how his early life went, but the Age of Apocalypse is a goddamn nuclear mutant supremacist nightmare, so we have to assume things went very differently.

When you start to fill in the holes in a character's history, you generally - or, well, I do, anyway - look at what you know about that character and then extrapolate backwards, and something that's always struck me about Dark Beast is his relationship with fear.

He clearly loves to instil it in others, clearly revels in being a figure of horror and power, but this isn't something you really see in Hank, he does exactly the opposite, he minimises, he clowns, he dresses and accessorises to make himself seem less threatening.

In Hank's case, that's a reaction to people seeing him as a threat, despite what he has to offer. Even when he looks human, he's afraid of being recognised as a mutant, and kinda rightly so - the instant he displays his talents, someone tries to take advantage of him, his parents get a little freaked out, and his life crumbles. But that's in a society that values normalcy, that values the human baseline.

So what does that look like in a society that values the 'abnormal,' that values mutant power? Suddenly, Dark Beast is, at least to start with, weak. He's fleshy, he's human looking, he just has big hands and feet, he's barely a mutant in the visual sense - and the only valuable thing about him is his brain, which is where Sinister comes in.

In the comics, they have an odd relationship - not quite peers, not quite enemies, not quite rivals, something all mixed up and strange, and I've always interpreted it as vaguely parental, or, at least, as parental as it gets with someone like Sinister. But he's also clearly afraid of Sinister. The entire reason he swapped places with Hank in the 90s was because he wanted to hide in plain sight, from a "very powerful man."

So, we can assume a mentor-student relationship that was - not kind. We also know that Dark Beast doesn't really know his family, since he doesn't recognise his grandmother's name in the issue where he nearly kills Hank's parents, so we have to assume he was taken young. Now, this upbringing can't have been fun by any measure, but Sinister isn't the type to just start beating and abusing a kid with obvious incredible mental gifts, so he has to be - gentle. By his standards, anyway.

Which means . . . well, there's no real way around it, grooming. I don't think in a sexual manner, but to try and mould a young Dark Beast into a worthy pupil, absolutely. Look, all the books you could want to read, a safe place in this hellish environment, freedom to do as you wish - by comparison, he has it good. And even if I doubt there was any real warmth there, it's easy to imagine Dark Beast feels indebted. A degree of attachment to the only caretaker he's ever really known. A need to impress, which is something that 616 Hank feels very often as well, a need for validation, which is so easily manipulated.

So, you have all of this incredible mental pressure being applied to this young kid, and he's trying so hard to perform.

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh"

In this little opening, you don't get Henry's name in narration, it's just his actions. He wobbles, he breathes heavy, the scalpel moves as if on its own, and it's partly because he's trying to remove himself from this equation, trying to separate his consciousness from what he's actually doing, but it's also because Sinister is sucking the air out of the room and exerting his control over his protege. There is no autonomy here, there is no Sinister and his student, it's just Sinister and the extension of his will. There's just fear, and tension, and disappointment, and a child being forced to hurt someone because it's what his caretaker expects of him.

"unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . ."

This is Henry trying desperately to keep this clinical, but I think that there's still too much warmth in him to keep that straight, so he keeps fumbling, like a kid being put on the spot in a classroom and trying to find the right page in the book that'll get him out of trouble. He can't detach himself, it's still his fingers hurting someone.

There's a reason you do so much training to be a surgeon, you have to learn so much about adopting the proper mental state and schooling your emotions, but with Sinister? No. You do it when I tell you to do it, and if you feel anything about it, then that's your personal failing. That's the weak, human part of you that our society despises.

"Blood. A clatter, a turn of a stomach.""

It's one thing to start cutting, it's another to see someone bleeding. We don't even know how much there was, how much Henry's actually cut, but it's enough that it's all he can focus on, that little bloom around the scalpel tip means that this is real. This isn't a medical textbook, this isn't a cadaver, this is someone who is still alive and that is -

He can't stand it.

I also like creating a mental soundscape and letting the reader's brain fill in the blanks - it's fine but a tad boring to just write that he dropped the scalpel and he feels sick. But if there's a clatter, you, the reader, know exactly what happened, except now you've heard the sound in your head, you've put yourself just a little bit in Henry's shoes, even if you're only hearing what he's hearing. Especially in introspective pieces like this, it's really important to try and foster a connection between the reader and the character.

"And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

Something I love to play around with is very exacting use of bold and italics. I find it creates a good sense of cadence and rhythm, and denotes an easy signifier of something being important and worth dwelling on - it draws the eye, so you focus on it. You ask, why that word, and especially depending on what you surround it with, it can denote such passion and warmth, or cold, lip curled disgust.

This is probably the most basic literary technique ever, but it's still important because you want to start layering in your themes as early as possible, and while the degree to which this society hates human appearances will become much clearer later, the sooner it becomes apparent that it's significant, the better. You need to understand what would drive Dark Beast to, in a way, mutilate himself with his forced mutation - what drives him to such self-hatred of his body that he changes it completely?

(I'll also confess, I lifted some dialogue from the comic where Hank changes himself into the Beast for this fic, but altered it to fit Dark Beast instead. Instead of ego, it's fear. And I stole the unique narration because I just love the way this issue plays out and the way the story is told, the way that it frames Hank as this dumb kid making a mistake that might ruin his life forever. It felt appropriate.)

I also like to play with dashes in sentences. You can create such a sense of a mental lurch, of a pause to consider your thoughts, a sense of pregnancy and choosing your words carefully. It allows you to align what seems to just be narration from an omniscient writer, i.e. me, with the character. Suddenly, it's not me writing about Sinister's hand around Henry's neck, suddenly the narration has naturalistically become Henry's, coloured by his thoughts and feelings and emotions.

So, yeah! That's my commentary! Hope you enjoyed it!

#silverjetsystm #commentary meme #outofmuffins #Thank you for sending this in!!!

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year ago

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what right had you not to let me die?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/jgXQr3l by a_alene “I’m going to kick your ass,” Jason threatens. “Creeper.” This kind of threat usually works. Jason’s gotten very good at it over the years. At the very least, it makes the target reconsider their choices. The Replacement does not look like he’s reconsidering anything. In fact, he looks a little pitying. “Right now, you have the constitution of a wet tissue. I don’t even think you could stand up without passing out.” He says this so evenly and plainly that Jason is automatically furious. Just to prove Replacement’s scrawny little ass wrong, he is going to stand up, beat his ass into the ground, and then kill everyone in Crime Alley who has ever wronged him. The list is long. It’ll probably last the whole night. The fact that he only gets up to his knees before everything goes black is, like. A minor setback. *** Jason Todd is about to find out why hundred and four degree fevers are, generally, considered detrimental to one's well-being. Tim Drake is about to commit crimes against Top Ramen and humanity. Bruce Wayne is about to fret. What else do you expect? Words: 3837, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Jason Todd-centric, Sickfic, Enemy to Caretaker, Sort Of, rated t for jason's dirty fucking mouth, Autistic Tim Drake, what if we remembered that tim drake is a competent individual, and that jason todd is not not a competent individual, but he is also really very nineteen, Bruce Wayne is a Helicopter Parent read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/jgXQr3l

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

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thief-of-eggs · 2 years ago

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2, 8 and 23 for the questions for fic writers asks :)

My answers got a little longer than I intended. Oops! Anyway-

2: Coming in at number one for my most used tags would be “emotional hurt/comfort”, followed closely behind by plain old “hurt/comfort”, and then “fluff”.

I do think these tags represent my writing habits well😂 I am a sucker for hurt/comfort, physical or emotional. I need the pain in order for the fluffy stuff to feel more real :,))

That being said, I do hope to get the whump tag higher up there in the future. I love whump, I’m just not fully confident writing it as often.

8: Ok so this is actually a whole wip I have!!! But-

The song “Kissaphobic” for timkon. I want to write a whole long-fic (which is half of why i haven’t done a whole lot for this fic yet. long-fics scare me) anyway- I have an outline for a longfic set from Kon’s pov, where Tim and Kon start hooking up as a little “friends with benefits” type thing. A way to let off steam after missions etc. And basically Kon’s scared to kiss Tim, scared of how attached it’ll make him, because he’s liked Tim for forever. And he’s fairly certain that Tim wouldn’t want anything more than friends with benefits.

Anyway- cue lots of angsty smut, followed by Kon beating himself up for still managing to get attached, and then the mandatory angsty “break up”, followed by a confession of feelings and then finally!! their first kiss!!!

Idk. I listen to that song a lot. It’s in my timkon playlist and I just love to play it on repeat thinking of these two dorks

23: I desperately want to write an enemy to caretaker fic, but I am scared. It would take a lot of plot and planning, and I am not good at either LOL. But hopefully one day I can write it

#ao3 #answered anon #writer asks

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dwindlinghaze · 2 years ago

Text

ribbon and sweater

(remus lupin x fem!reader)

summary: remus finds himself slowly in love with a girl, but he doesn't like it, doesn't like the way you make him feel some type of way.

contents: fluff, soft/shy reader, enemies to lover (kinda), reader likes ribbons and pearls and angels and somewhat feminine, mean remus, angst to fluff. it's long so buckle up!

a/n: i'm quite proud of this cdhfyz

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you.

you with your pretty hair that falls to your face and the ribbons that tied half of them together made something in remus swirl.

the way you scrunched your face when you laugh with mary and lily sends butterflies to his stomach.

and he hated it. he hated how much impact you had on him. he always considered himself as a collected person, but he would fall for you all over the place.

maybe because he never lets anyone in and the fact that he wants you in is terrifying to him.

you were once partner in potions. he heard your sweet voice and it sent him spiralling in an alleyway. one time your hand brushed his when you were cutting gillyweed. the touch of the hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves.

he first saw you this way when you were in charms class. professor flitwick was praising you because you managed to do a quite tricky spell.

his eyes perked up the moment professor flitwick said your name. he usually was the best in charms, but you were beating him and he isn't enjoying it. when he looked at your flushed face, there was no anger or jealousy anymore. he almost adored the way you smiled timidly at the professor.

he shook his head rapidly, scoffing at himself.

"what mate?" sirius stared at him with side eyes.

"nothing," remus replied

"are you sad that you're not the best in charms anymore?" sirius laughed, hitting remus side.

"shut up no," he said.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you were friends with james since fourth year because he thought you were a way to get lily to like him, but after being friends for a while, you actually grew on him and now you're actually friends with james, not because his needs for lily, but for you.

remus finds himself staring at you during classes you had together, rolling his eyes when you were laughing with mary.

and by the way, he hates your laugh so much because it sounded like an angel's harp to him. it's horrible how pretty your voice is.

"moony, you've been staring at the girl for a while now," sirius said in a sing-song voice.

"i'm not! she's just terrible. that ghastly pearls around her neck and ears is stupid. and those bows she never took off of her head is horrendous," remus huffed, flipping his book rather harshly.

deep down he loved it. he loved your style and how perfect you are in them. he just hated his feelings. he knows you will never reciprocate him and maybe by getting you to hate him can make it easier. so he knows that you will never like him.

"hey, watch your mouth! she's my friend y'know," james scoffed at remus, throwing a paper ball at him.

"no i'm just saying-"

"you're never this mean to anyone..." james raised an eyebrow at the boy. it's true, remus lupin is always nice. he doesn't hate anyone, he's not able to. "she's a big softie on the inside. you just got to warm up."

if i warm up, i will fall in love

remus ignored him, feeling his stomach grumbling.

dinner was then ready. every students were in the great hall except you. you were somewhere in the castle ground playing with the nifflers the caretaker just got.

remus noticed. there isn't any white or black or baby pink or blue ribbon in a person's head in the great hall. he finds himself furrowing his brows, not eating the food from his plate.

and then the door opened, you walking in with your hair messy from the wind. remus thought you look unbearably adorable. and he hated it.

"hi james," you said before taking the empty seat between mary and james. "hi," you smiled at the other three marauders.

everyone greeted you back except remus, who was sitting in front of james. he was pursing his lips, eyeing you weirdly.

james kicked his legs from under the table, making remus winced in pain.

you didn't know how it started but somehow, you were now staring at remus and remus was staring at you. millions of thoughts swimming inside your minds.

he looked very good under the candlelight.

why is her hair so beautiful?

his chocolate eyes are like a comet in the sky

her eyes are like a glimmer of sunshine

the freckles in his cheeks are pretty

she must be god's favourite because she is the best of all his creations

"are you two having a staring contest?" james looked between you and remus.

"no," remus replied before scoffing and rolled his eyes at you.

you felt yourself sinking in your seat. a frown appeared on your face as you looked down at your plate, toying with the food.

remus felt guilty for making you feel this way. he wished to wipe your frown away. a part of him adored the way your eyebrows crinkled together, it was cute. but also he is one step closer for you to hate him.

when you averted you attention to mary, making a conversation with her, james kicked remus' shin, glaring at him.

"what were you doing?" james whisper-yelled. "stop being so mean to her!"

"ok," remus replied nonchalantly, brushing james' feet away.

"i think remus is in love with her," sirius said, maybe a bit too loud for remus' liking but not loud enough because you're still focused on mary.

"how's that possible?" remus huffed.

"well- for starters, did you see how moony looked at her earlier? it's the way when two or one people is in love with the other. i'm not playing around!" sirius raised his arms in defence.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"i don't think remus lupin likes me," you said to lily that night. you knew lily and remus are study buddies and maybe she can tell you why he was acting like that towards you.

"oh trust me he doesn't!" lily said. "remus can never hate anyone- and how can a person hate you? you didn't even do anything wrong."

"he was rolling his eyes and scoffing at me earlier," you frowned, playing with your fingers. you hated how you're overthinking everything you never did.

"he has anger issues," the redhead simply reply. "why do you care so much anyway? i'm sure he likes you. he may come off as rude or mean at some point and that's not your fault!"

"he seemed like a good friend. just disappointed that he doesn't want to be friends with me."

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the marauders were planning their monthly pranks, remus being the mastermind that laid groundwork and then just like clockwork, their plans cascaded in a line.

"let's prank y/n," remus stated, looking at the other marauders.

"what? no!" james refused. he has a soft spot for you, he feels like anything that touches your skin will burn the petal.

"prongs! that'd be funny!" sirius agreed to remus' idea, clapping him on his back.

"are you sure this is a great idea? i mean- she's like- i don't know. not prank worthy?" james continued.

and remus agreed with james too. although it would be funny to prank you, he would never want to hurt you. and what the hell is that? you're supposed to hate him.

"just not anything too much. nothing a tulip can handle," sirius shrugged.

you were heading your way out of the common room, a book about angels clutched tightly on your chest. you were walking silently and a second later, you hear a splash behind your back.

seemed like the marauder has missed their target, resulting a first year to be drenched in green paint.

you whipped your head around, hair flying behind. "oh gosh are you okay?" you kneeled at the little girl.

she was now crying, and you had your suspicions on a certain group of friends for this. the girl shook his head, wiping the green substance off of her face.

you cast a spell, waving your wand in mid air to produce a napkin. "here let me help you," you said softly to the girl as you wiped off the green off of her face.

"thank you," the girl whispered. despite the substance being completely wiped off, it still leaves a stain on her skin. "my ribbon is stained," the girl cried, clutching it with shaky hands.

"that's alright, you can have mine," you reached up for your hair to grab the thin bow off of your hair. "there, you look gorgeous!" you beamed at her after you clipped the bow in her locks.

"people make fun of me for liking ribbons and fairies and angels. i think we like same things."

"listen, don't let people get to you. we're young and still got a long life ahead, being someone you're not is tiring. be who you are and if people don't like it, then be yourself even more so they can suffer," you giggled, patting her shoulders. "go take a shower yeah? the green might go away."

"okay..." she runs off to the distance.

"james!" you huffed. you knew the boys were around somewhere.

"hi darling," sirius appeared as he put his arms around your shoulders.

"you guys were planing to prank me didn't you?" you squinted your eyes at the three.

"yup." remus said, a bit disappointed at the fact that it didn't work.

"why,"

"we are the marauders, darling, that's our job," sirius replied.

"why me? i didn't do anything."

"it would be funny to see you in green since all you wear is white and pink, elphaba" remus scoffed.

"oh you know the wizard of oz? wicked?" you started to get giddy. you've never met someone that knows that muggle series, it was your favourite.

remus, seeing this, feels like his heart was melting at your reaction. you looked adorable and excited. it drives him insane how effortless you can be.

"that's like a children's storybook. you're sixteen," remus, instead, replied.

the smile on your face dropped almost instantly, your heart hurts. you're embarrassed. embarrassed for being so excited about something stupid.

remus felt like he should bury himself under pounds of blankets so he doesn't get to see your sad face. he felt guilty for making you feel stupid. he wanted nothing more than to pull you to his chest and whisper sweet nothings in your ears. he couldn't though.

"i should get going," you forced a smile. "please don't pull pranks on me," you giggled at james before making your way outside the castle.

your book was left behind, remus noticed it. he went to grab the thick heavy book when a shoe blocked him. "let me-"

"what? you're gonna make fun of her for liking angels now? or you're going to burn that whole damn thing down?" james glared at the lycanthrope.

"nope. not any of that. i just want to see," remus fought.

"no," james snatched the book away from him before running to his dorm, tucking it under his bed so remus wouldn't find it. he's planning to give it back to you later.

"i think i missed a chapter here," sirius inquired. "since when is prongs more mature than moony?"

"since y/n i fear," peter quipped.

"you guys are a bunch of bullocks," remus grumbled.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it was winter, your favourite time of the year. the scape displayed a beautiful scenery of the wildest winter wonderland.

you, mary, and lily were planning to skate on the ice rink in hogsmeade. coincidentally, the marauders are also skating at the same time.

you spun around the rink, snowflake hitting your lashes and hair. the sight of you were simply mesmerising. remus is in awe. you were like an angel.

your head tilted up, hair flying around with the wind. with the lack of balance you had, you scrambled, almost falling to the ground. lily and mary laughed at your antics, and you laughed too.

remus wanted to hold your hand as you spin around so you don't lose balance. and if you did, you would fall to him.

you were in your own world as you glide around the sparkling ice when you felt a presence beside you.

it was remus.

"hello," you tried to be nice to him, winter is not the season hold grudges. people make mistakes and you forgive them for it.

"do you ever take that ribbon off of your hair, it's ghastly," remus rolled his eyes.

"oh so you only came here to say that to me? well i personally think your sweaters are horrendous. you should try putting them on a washing machine because it looks like it hasn't been washed for months," you scrunched your face, making a disgusted face as you skate away from him.

it hurts. your words sent his heart breaking like icicles. he deserved it though. he had said stuff much more than that to you.

what makes his heart break more is that you never said mean things to people. you're patient and careful with your words and the fact that you snapped at him sent him to another dimension.

"what? you can't skate?" you chuckled at him as he struggled to move. you made your way back to him, helping him stand up after he fell.

he was embarrassed. after all he said and now he's lying cold on the icy ground. a part of him liked the way you were laughing because of him. it makes him feel fuzzy and warm inside but he hated it.

if he wasn't acting mean to you, he was sure he would open the door of his heart so easily. your soft hands grabbed both of his wrist as he tried to stand up.

your touch sent shivers down his spine. you never touched him before, only a little contact of the skin. your hands were like soft petals, opposite of his rough ones.

you helped him skate to where the friends were, effortlessly. "why are you nice to me?" remus said. "i've been nothing but mean to you."

"it's winter- almost christmas! it's the most beautiful season. i wouldn't ruin it by being immature," you shrugged.

"would you stop going so fast," remus squeezed your soft knuckles.

"if i go any slower, you will lose balance!" you said.

oh now you're thinking of his safety

he cursed himself for thinking that way. it was probably nothing. you always think of others.

he hates the way you make his stomach do flips. the swarming butterflies in his body is crazy. almost unreal. he lets go one of your hand and rest them on your shoulder so he can get closer and smell you.

you smelled like strawberry and marshmallows. it was sweet and so you. he would inhale your scent everyday and won't get sick of it.

"oh now moony and y/n is looking very cosy," sirius perked.

remus, hearing this pushed you away from him, making you fell to the ground with a thud.

and god he felt so guilty. he was sorry. he couldn't bring himself to say it though. his original plan was to make you hate him but it's quite literally impossible.

you were so lovely and he's such an idiot.

"ow," you whimpered as your back hit the ground. remus whipped his head around, eyes widening in panic as you tried to massage your elbows.

"oh god i'm sorry! i didn't mean to-" remus rambled as he grabbed your left arm, fingers grazing the fabric over your skin tenderly.

he felt horrible. he is so stupid for everything. he considered himself as a nice person but he was anything but.

"remus," you spoke, looking at him dead in the eyes. you were crying. "would you mind not touching me?," he frowned, his eyes were watery. he looked like he was about to cry. "i don't think i'm comfortable," he pulled away immediately. "thanks for understanding."

you stand up, wiping the tears from your face and went away to catch up on mary and lily.

remus sat still on the ground, unable to move as he watched you away.

"what was that?" james shouted. "you're an asshole you know that. she has been so patient with you! remus lupin, i'm not going to deal with this." james scurried away, scoffing at him with the nastiest look he can manage to show.

"mate, what just happened?" sirius spoke, a weird expression on his face.

"i'm in love with her," remus cried.

"would you care to elaborate? i'm lost right now," sirius replied timidly at his friend.

"i'm in love with y/n. i'm only being mean to her so i can hide my feelings. i'm so stupid. i'm tired of myself. just leave me alone!" remus yelled, his tears run cold.

"y'know it'd be easier for the two of you if you don't hide those feelings and actually be friends with her?"

"you don't understand! she would never like me. not anymore after what i had done. not ever. not even before. i'm a werewolf!"

"oh the books missed the part of werewolves being really dumb. moony-." sirius tried to speak but he was cut off.

"leave me alone!" remus snapped, trying to stand up unsuccessfully.

"fine!" sirius said, reaching up to where james and peter were.

remus watched you from afar, hands in your pocket as you looked down at your pink roller skate with ribbons as the laces. you looked so beautiful, and angelic, like a fairy.

you caught him staring at you with an expression like a broken vase. you paid him no mind as you skate around even more, scaring mary from the back which made the poor girl fell down.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you didn't try to talk to him the next day. and the day after and the day after. he wasn't being mean to you anymore. he's giving you space.

you don't sit next to james anymore during breakfast lunch and dinner. you sat on the furthest seat of the gryffindor table. he couldn't even look at your face anymore. heads of strangers blocking his view.

the other three noticed the shift in him. he doesn't talk as much anymore. although he is quiet, he's never this quiet. he doesn't want to be involved in pranks lately, he'd much rather read your angel book he found tucked under james' bed under his sheets.

he hated himself. hated the fact that he didn't make you hate him but made you hurt. flashes of you crying on the ice rink haunts him. he would never look at the snow the same ever again.

every time the snow fell from the sky, memories of you rushed back into his mind. his heart aches, his mind is his biggest enemy, the full moon is his biggest vendetta.

the next time he saw you was when you were sitting under a tree, flowers around you. it was like as if nature was your best friend. you look incredibly dazzling under the sun. it was cold. you wore your fluffy jacket along with some matching leg warmer.

he wanted to make things right with you. he wanted to apologise for what he had done. although there is a slim chance you would forgive him.

his palms were sweaty despite the freezing weather. his heart was beating rapidly under his coat. he mustered up the courage to talk to you after weeks. now that you're only meters away from him, he wished he can just sink down on the soil. being under there forever.

"hey," remus said shakily. you looked up at him, eyes a little puffy, you had been crying.

you didn't reply though. he didn't blame you. "you're not wearing a ribbon..."

"trying something new," you replied, rather coldly.

"i'm sorry. i hope you know that i didn't mean for this to happen. never," he spoke softly. ripping the grass under.

"okay," you nodded, and averted your focus to your book.

"i don't know why you hate me so much. what did i do?" you said sadly, after a while long of silence.

remus took a deep shaky breath, "i never hated you. i didn't want any of this to happen. this is so stupid and i don't even want to say it but i just thought by making you hate me, i can push my feelings for you aside. so that i dont have to hope for impossible things and face reality that you can never love me back. i know you cant."

"why not?"

"after what i've done to you? i doubt," remus huffed at himself.

"no i mean- before that. must be something right? you're a good person."

"how can you say that? you don't know what you're talking about," remus said.

"james and sirius and peter wouldn't be your friend for six years if you're a bad person," you shrugged.

remus felt himself blushing, heart warm and fuzzy just like your jacket. "they're crazy," he shook his head.

"you haven't answered why though?"

remus gulped. his throat went dry. "uh-" he cleared his throat trying to collect himself.

"if it's personal you don't have to tell me," you smiled a lip tight smile.

"i'm a werewolf," he blurted. his lungs were knocked out of his body by now. it's crazy how he can let you in so easily. he is a closed book at all costs but he would tear every pages of himself and give it to you without questions.

"for real?" you asked, eyes widening in awe.

"yeah, that's why i was mean to you. nobody can lo- uh like a monster like me. who am i to think that by some miracle you would reciprocate my feelings," remus eyes glisten.

"don't say that about yourself," you furrowed your brows. "i don't think anyone is a monster. it's just the books that says so."

"stop trying to make me feel better after what i had done to you. you deserve so much better than this- i-"

"i love magical creatures," you smiled.

"huh?"

"and werewolves are magical creatures!" you said.

"no, y/n, you love fairies, angels, pegasus, pixies, and things like that. not werewolves," he fought, breaking his own heart.

"no i don't. i love all kinds," you replied, smiling at him.

"no, you don't love me. you can't!" he felt tears streaming down his face like the biggest waterfall there ever was.

"i can love you. maybe i don't love you now but you deserved to be loved. and i know i can do that," you said.

"y/n, at least punch me in the face with a tree trunk first. i don't deserve this," remus spoke, wiping his tears away.

how can someone be so lovely and forgiving at the same time? it was unfair because the world is absolutely horrible for people like you. him for example, he's horrible.

you didn't punch him, you hugged him instead.

he couldn't breath the first seconds. the smell of strawberries and marshmallows were filling his nose, he could melt.

he gently wrapped his arms around your frame, careful with his movements because you were like the most expensive porcelain doll from the southern quadrant. if he was in the magical land of oz, you would definitely be from the quadling country.

"and by the way, i love your ribbons. you look pretty in them- i mean you're always beautiful. do you have any ribbons by chance right now?" remus mumbled, brushing your hair from your face gently.

"i do, i have two in my bag," you replied.

"can i see them?"

"of course," you said as you pulled two baby blue ribbons from your bag.

he took them from you, holding it like it's made of glass. he clipped one on your hair and one on his, which made you laugh.

"pretty," he smiled.

"remus- you look-"

"i look like you!" he cut you off.

"okay..." you chuckled.

oh he loved that sound so much. it's terrifying how much he loved it.

"i love your sweaters too," you whispered shyly.

"i have one extra in my bag, let me put it on you," he said, pulling a sweater from his bag and his eyes landed on your angel book he secretly brings around everywhere.

"do you always have an extra one in your bag?"

"no," he shook his head, embarrassed. "it's just- uh-" he struggled to find the right words, his cheeks flushing under your soft gaze.

his stomach was filled with swarming angel wings, mind filled with the thought of you. "let me put it on you. so we wear each other's stuff." he cringed at how cheesy it sounded but smiled when he sees your pink tinted cheeks.

the sweater fits on you a bit too big. it was a white knitted sweater, "i love it, thanks."

"you can keep it. i knew you'd like it," he said.

it smelled like him, looks like his usual musky green sweaters too- just a different colour this time.

"oh and by the way, here's your book," he pushed your book to you.

"i've been looking for this! where did you find it?" you asked him giddily.

god you are so adorable when you're excited. he's so smitten.

he scratched the back of his neck, "you left it in the floor the day we pranked you. i'm sorry about that. james found it and put it on his bed, hoping to give it back to you the next day but i found it and i kept it. i want to be the one that gives it back to you. um sorry it took this long-" he rambled. it was bewildering how easy it is for him to open up to you. narrating the story for you to hear.

"oh thank you!" you started to open the book. "i haven't read this yet."

"you're like a cherubim angel," he said, resting his chin on you shoulder from the back so he can see the book with you.

"what's that?"

"it's in the book," he replied, "and uh is this okay?"

"what's okay?"

"me being close to you," he pulled back a little wanting to make sure that you are comfortable.

"oh- it's fine!" you giggled. "you're warm, i'm very comfy."

remus hid his face in your shoulders, hiding his crimson cheeks.

"wait- you said something about cherubim in this book. does that mean you've read it?" you pointed at the book in your lap.

"uh yeah- can't help it," he said, flushing once more. the effect you on him were crazy. "do you want to read it together?"

"sure," you opened the first chapter.

"read it out loud, i love hearing your lovely voice," he spoke.

"oh what? no-" you have never read aloud before. nobody has ever asked you for it.

"i want to hear your voice," he mumbled.

so you started.

it was like heaven to him. your scent covering his nose while you voice filling his ears. he must be dreaming because no way is he breathing.

he interlocked his finger with your softer ones, wanting to never let go. your hair was brushing his neck as the wind hits it.

he felt like he's in a new world where there's only you.

you and your pretty ribbons on your hair; that beautiful smile; that lovely voice; your enchanting smell; you soft fingers; your back pressed against his chest. it was indescribable. he couldn't ask for anything better.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you two were hanging on the couch the next few days, james and sirius still not noticing the way you two are behaving. james was still mad at remus, so he barely knew what he is up to these days.

it was at night, the snow patting the window, glistened as it fell.

he remembered that day all too well. he still felt guilty for it.

but all negativity were pushed aside when he felt you shifting beside him.

you noticed the look on his face. "hey, don't worry about it. everything's fine," you stroked his fingers.

"okay," he replied. he has been mustering up the courage to ask you to be your boyfriend. he wanted to do it today. he feels like right now is the perfect time.

"hey, angel," he turned slowly to you, swallowing hard. "i would really really really love to be your boyfriend. if you're ready for this of course. i don't want to push things."

you blinked at him, eyelashes hitting your lid. "rem, i'd love that," you blushed.

"yeah?"

"mhm."

"okay," he said. "i really want to kiss you right now."

your heart skipped a beat at his words, "you can y'know."

"yea.." he whispered before leaning forward, nose inches away from each other. he can feel your unsteady breath, he put an arm around you to ease you up before his lips were pressing against your own.

you soft lips felt even softer when it touches his. it sent him in to a love spiral. kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats undercoats.

you were so sweet. tastes like sweet candy drops.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the next following day, you were sitting on the great hall right next to remus. it was questionable to the other because you and him were never spotted this close.

"do you want pumpkin juice?" he asked, pointing to the goblet.

"um tea please, no sugar," you replied, squeezing his fingers.

"oh of course no sugar. you're already sweet," he shook his head as he poured the tea in your cup.

james eyed him suspiciously, "i missed a chapter," he mumbled.

"don't know what you're talking about," remus simply replied. what sent the others even more shock is the way he kissed your temple so tenderly.

"oh we are dating," you blushed as you poked your blueberry pie.

"what?" james asked wide eyed.

"i knew it!" sirius cheered, almost knocking his cup. "he told me he was in love with her. i was right all along, of course i am," he threw his hair back.

"stop it," remus hissed.

and the others also notice the change since he's with you.

he now takes care of himself, starting from little things. he's always been a gentleman but never this gentle since you.

ribbons and sweaters are the things that brought you two together.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin imagine #remus x y/n #remus lupin blurb #x reader #remus fluff

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iamhumannotamonster · 2 years ago

Text

anyways what about whumpees who are like dangerous? horrible bastards maybe? I like monster whump but it can be with human whump also. Legit the type of character who kills and murders and beats and fires etc etc.

Maybe for x or y reason they are controlled by whumper in some way. Maybe they have been conditioned to obey whumper, are being extorcioned, unhealthy attachement, magic brainwashing, the whumper is someone in a higher position, etc (you name the reason)

It can also be pet whump and the whumpee is treated like a feral animal or smth

in contrast with whumpees who are usually scaredy cats, maybe this one is a total asshole and an agressive, unpleasant person overall with everyone except whumper. Would caretaker want to help them? would the whumpee appreciate that even?

Maybe this particular whumper lets the whumpee beat their enemies up or kill them.

Whould whumper let whumpee insult or act up against everybody else except them? or does the whumpee act up despite the punishement?

How would whumpers friends react? would they be uncomfortable?

#whump prompt #monster whump #whump scenario #defiant whumpee #feral whumpee #whump #Non-human whumpee #my post

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marchtothefuckingsea · 3 years ago

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Stick Around - Sean Renard

Last one flopped hard but I wanted to write this trope with him so bad and I literally sat down and wrote this in an hour so I figured I may as well share it.

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Injury, blood, violence but it’s canon to the show. A bit ooc in my opinion (again)

Hurt/comfort, enemy to caretaker type beat, no usage of y/n, x gender neutral reader, x grimm reader !

Summary: Reader is a new grimm in Portland, tracking down a wesen who has left a trail of bodies in their wake. Despite what they do, they receive quite the unfriendly welcome from the police captain, who is unknowing of their intentions. Reader gets badly injured by the klaustreich and is forced to go to Sean Renard for safety.

Prompted by the classic and overused "I didn't know where else to go" trope.

I clutched my hand to my bleeding side, desperately putting pressure on the gunshot wound. I winced, feeling a burning sensation as the adrenaline started to fade from me, leaving me completely and utterly vulnerable to the pain that awaited me. I gripped my shirt hard, until it hurt my hand, still pushing against the injury while trying to find an outlet for the pain.

I bent down, grabbing the gun that the klaustreich had aimed at me with. I heard shuffling as she struggled to get up and I stood up, much too fast. My head spun and I stumbled against the brick wall behind me, one hand clutching the gun and the other pressed to my side, breathing heavily. I blinked hard in a desperate attempt to clear my vision as I heard more shuffling, and what sounded like dragging footsteps.

My breath quickened and I stumbled back in fear, my eyes barely focusing on her feline frame before she lunged at me, knocking the both of us to the ground with a grunt. The weapon flew out of my hand, skidding across the pavement. She fumbled, clawing at my face with vicious ferocity. I hissed in pain as I felt the sting of her claws, bringing my arms up to shield my face and letting my forearms bear the brunt of her attacks. She paused for a moment, her lips curled into a sneer. I seized the opportunity to wrench myself out away from her, rolling over onto my belly with a pained groan and fumbling for the gun, my fingers mere inches away from it.

My bloodied hand finally grasped the barrel, flipping it around and aiming it at the woman still clawing at my shoulders. She made a last-ditch effort dive, and I shot. I winced as she fell on me, pushing myself out from under her with my elbows. I could feel blood dripping down my arms, suddenly feeling woozy. I rolled onto my stomach again, shakily pushing myself onto my forearms before struggling to my feet. I leaned heavily against the wall, pressing my fevered cheek to the cool brick and gasping out labored breaths. I struggled to think straight.

I weighed my options, knowing I couldn't go to the hospital for my wounds. They would ask far too many questions, and I couldn't afford to get arrested. My apartment was far from within walking distance, and so was Rosalie's place. I slumped against the wall as I went over what options I, realistically, had. None, really. I groaned when another sharp pain coursed through my abdomen, pressing harder against the wound as my head spun helplessly. Another alternative appeared in my clouded mind, although not one I favored, but it was better than dying on the streets.

Or maybe I would be better off with the latter.

Sean Renard's condo was only a block away, within walking distance, even in my state. I could probably make it.

I pushed against the wall weakly, straightening my posture and stumbling forward. The rest of my walk there was a haze of pain and dizziness, though I remember a car honking at me as I crossed an intersection, headlights burning into my eyes as it came to an abrupt stop to avoided hitting me.

I stood across the street from the complex, leaning against a streetlight as I regained my composure. I knew I had to be let in, and I couldn't show up looking like I just murdered someone.

I winced, hissing in pain as I removed my jacket, tightening it around my waist to hopefully slow the bleeding. The more I thought about it, the worst of an idea this was becoming. I wiped my bloodied hands on my jeans and attempted to cross my arms to hide the claw marks the best I could. My breath hitched in my throat when the action pulled at the gaping wound on my stomach. I quickly put my arms back to my sides, one instinctively coming up to press against the injury.

I hesitated, once again glancing at the building and wondering if it was worth it. I knew he couldn't arrest me, not without people asking questions, but he could just as easily kill me and do away with the unwanted grimm.

"I may be a cop," He had threatened me. "But I can come back as a zauberbiest if you try anything."

I wasn't a bad grimm. I had tried to explain to him, but he wouldn't listen, growling out his threat in woge, before stalking off with a deathly glare. I didn't kill wesen just because they were wesen, I tried to make things right. I tried to reason with them, I only dealt with them if I absolutely had to. I didn't like unnecessary bloodshed.

Another wave of dizziness swept me up, making me stagger forward, falling onto my hands and knees with a bloody cough. My arms shook beneath me and my vision darkened and blurred, signaling I didn't have much time left. I carefully rose to my feet once the dizziness passed, my mind made up.

I stumbled across the street, not bothering with my appearance anymore. I felt my blood soaked shirt cling to my middle. I fell into the wall, pressing the comm with shaky hands. It took me a handful of tries to even hit the button, before I breathed out a shaky, "I'm here to see Sean Renard."

A man's voice crackled through. "Who is it?" His voice was cautious, I knew he could see me through some sort of security camera. I no doubt looked suspicious.

I hesitated. "Tell him it's the grimm."

"I'm going to need a name." He insisted.

"I don't have one. He doesn't know me by anything else." I snapped, dots starting to swim in my eyes. I blinked hard, leaning into the wall even more and pressing my face to the cool concrete. I sighed, the cold relieving the raging heat beneath my torn skin.

"Come in." The man said, the doors simultaneously clicking, signaling they were unlocked. I fumbled with the handle, staggering through and into the lobby. Lurching into the elevator, my hands hastily pressed the button with a '16' on it, before I slumped against the handrail, a hand resting wearily on my stomach.

My eyes fluttered shut, but I was thrown off balance when the elevator lurched to a stop, the 'ding' sounding and doors sliding open. I walked out into the hallway on weak legs, still clutching my injury. I found his door and paused, my hand poised to knock. A million second thoughts ran through my head, almost..afraid, now that I was here. Afraid of how he would react, and unsure if he would help me or not, or maybe even the opposite.

I was interrupted when my legs suddenly gave up, and I fell limply against his door with a light thud, the blackness becoming even more prominent in my vision. I struggled to push myself up, barely clinging onto the doorframe when the door opened, with an irritated and woged Renard behind it. A wave of fear crashed over me, causing me to stumble back unsteadily. I hunched into myself defensively, a trembling arm still curled around my waist. I was barely aware of the way blood had begun to soak through the shirt even more, enough to begin dripping through my fingers.

His eyes were cold and calculating as he took in my form - judging my condition, no doubt - before turning back to his human form. Probably once he realized I was far from being a threat. He took a step towards me and I immediately flinched back, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I thought this was a better option than dying on the street.

"I- I'm sorry," I gasped out painfully, struggling to stay conscious. "I didn't know where else to go." I trailed off, my eyelids became heavier by the second.

I forced them open again, before finally collapsing, groaning out weakly in pain as my limp form hit the floor. I rolled onto my side, hugging my middle desperately and gasping out quick, agonized pants. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep from crying out, before I saw him crouching in front of me, his hands hovering over me almost hesitantly.

“I’ll leave.” I groaned out, feebly pushing myself back with my arms. Once I had braced myself on my torn forearms, I struggled to make my weak legs work. They kicked at the ground uselessly instead of what I wanted them to do. I fell back to the floor with a whimper, breathing unsteadily, my eyes glossed over in fear and pain. I saw his now concerned face inches from mine, but my brain didn’t register it. I shut my eyes tightly, my limp hand coming up to rest on my stomach in a last attempt to shield myself. My sharp gasps of air had become more spaced out, and my head was concerningly light.

I whimpered when large hands pressed forcefully against my wound, the agonizing pressure forcing me back to reality,

“Stop,” I whined, clawing weakly against his hands and kicking my legs in protest.

"Please." I coughed, blood bubbling up in my throat. The taste of the rusty liquid on my tongue caused me to gag, and I flailed against his hold to right myself as I felt like I was beginning to drown in my own blood. He helped me to turn over, but still held me against him, his arms wrapped around my middle, still applying pressure to the gunshot wound in my abdomen as my body was wracked with bloody coughs.

Even as the coughing fit faded, I layed limply against him, exhausted and gasping for breath. My body still trembled as I curled into him. I was freezing. I didn't care at this point, I only wanted warmth and comfort. I felt his arms wrap around me tighter, and I wasn't sure if I should be reassured or even more scared.

Once I had caught my breath, I began to struggle onto all fours. He let me this time, eyeing me cautiously. My arms shook, but I managed to haul myself into a sitting position, slumping against the wall and watching him through half-lidded eyes with a cautious, glassy gaze. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

I flinched back into the wall when he moved towards me again, curling an arm protectively around my waist, but made no move to get away from him. I didn't have the energy in me to fight him anymore.

"Come on." He muttered, looping an arm under the both of mine. I begrudgingly allowed him to help me to my feet, gritting my teeth to try and hide how much pain I was in. He helped me into his room, with me leaning heavily against him. He kicked the door shut behind us, guiding me over to the bed. He let me go carefully, making sure I didn't collapse as soon as I was without his support. Falling onto the edge of the bed, I blearily found myself cold without his body heat as he pulled away.

"I'll be right back." He said briskly, turning on his heel and leaving the room. I could hear the shuffling sounds of things in drawers and the slam of cabinets, coming from what I could assume to be the bathroom. I glanced around the room, my situation suddenly becoming all too real, I felt a faint rush of fear. Something-probably my grimm instincts- told me to get out of here. I was too weak to even get to my feet without collapsing, and so I sat there, fighting to stay awake and fighting against the panic that was slowly rising into my chest.

The police captain entered the room, then, carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. I tensed up, a jolt of pain coursing through me at the action, causing me to hunch over and squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a low whine. My head shot up in surprise when I felt the bed dip beside me. Renard had sat, his larger frame towering over me. He spread the various tools from the medkit out on the bed, and I grimaced at the sight, shuffling away. He glanced over at me, his eyes softer than they were before as he saw the panic in my own.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to patch you up." He reassured me, his eyes meeting mine. I forced myself to relax, soon finding my body slumping into his side weakly, his warmth a comforting distraction of my current situation.

I woke later, blinking my bleary eyes open. I groaned, turning onto my side, before I drew in a sharp breath of pain at a burning, tugging sensation in my stomach. Pressing a hand to my abdomen, I suddenly remembered everything. My head shot up, eyes darting around the room. They came to rest on a sleeping zauberbiest in a chair by the bed, his head slumped over on his shoulder and the first few buttons on his dress shirt undone. I fell back onto the pillows, attempting to control my breaths, which had started to become frantic and pained.

I inhaled a shaky breath, wincing when the action once again tugged at the stitches on my abdomen. I let my body relax limply into the mattress, an arm curled defensively around my middle, still. I sighed, my eyes fluttering shut as I began to drift off again.

I forced them open when I heard shuffling and a groan, Renard beginning to stir. I managed to prop myself on my elbow, watching him somewhat cautiously.

“You’re awake.” He groaned, stretching his legs out and folding his hands together before leaning forward.

“Yeah.” I mumbled, not exactly sure where we stood now that I had a somewhat clear mind.

“How do you feel?” He asked, his eyes flickering across my frame. I hesitated, just wanting to lie and get out of here.

“Better, thank you.” I settled for, not wanting to elaborate. “I need to get back.”

“Back to where?”

“My apartment.”

“I don’t think you’re in the best condition to be in such a hurry.” He frowned, watching as I struggled to push myself into a sitting position, pain evident on my face. “Let me help.”

“I’m fine.” I said tautly, finally sitting up, before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I groaned as my head pounded furiously at the movement, my vision swimming.

I gripped the sheets tightly in my fists, hunching over and squeezing my eyes shut. I jerked back when I felt a pair of hands rest on my shoulders, preventing me from standing. He was now standing in front of me, and I glared up at him.

“I’m not keeping you here against your will,” He said, his eyes softening once he saw the pain in my mine. “I just..care. It would be unwise for you to leave right now in your condition.”

“Care? Since when do zauberbiest care about grimms? I’m surprised you haven’t killed me yet.” I spat, but there was no venom in my words.

“Then why did you come here?” He sat back down in the chair, removing his hands from my shoulders. I hesitated, not even sure of the reason myself. It was an unconscious decision, I knew that much.

“I just needed somewhere safe to go.” I muttered.

“And you considered coming to me safe?” He gave me an amused look, a slight smile playing on his face.

“I told you, I had nowhere else to go.” I argued, but I knew I had lost the argument. He uttered out a hum. We sat in silence for a few moments, before I asked quietly, “What do you mean by you care?”

His eyes darted up to meet mine, unsure how to respond. “You’re a grimm.” He said simply. I looked at him questioningly, his answer only drawing up more questions. He sighed. “You’re a grimm that doesn’t kill wesen just because they’re wesen. I have a partner like that, you remind me of him.”

“How did you find that out? I tried to explain that to you before.”

“I’ve been..watching you.” He admitted. “With good reason,” He defended himself before I could accuse him of anything. “We already have a grimm here in Portland, I didn’t think we needed another one, I was going to scare you off.”

“So you want me to leave.” I said flatly. I hadn’t been planning to stick around anyway, I had only followed the klaustreich case here. I ended up renting an apartment by the week from some old lady, when I hadn’t been able to track down the klaustreich after a week and a half. I needed more privacy, somewhere I could spread out all my books and findings without having to worry about the hotel staff stumbling across it.

I never really stayed in one place too long, fate had had other plans for me once I had discovered I was a grimm. Since I started seeing the creatures, I had been on the move, only living in one area long enough to deal with the problem. Then I was onto the next.

It was both out of will and necessity that I did this. I had quite a few nasty groups after me, so I couldn't really afford to stay in one place that long anyway. It never bothered me too much, I was never exactly welcomed with open arms, and I was almost always more than glad to be leaving.

"I wanted you to leave." He corrected me. "But..maybe we could use another grimm in Portland, if you're up for it?"

I hesitated. I had come to trust him in the past couple of hours, and trust that he had no intentions of harming me, at least not yet, but this was touching on an entirely different matter.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea." I said cautiously.

"Why not?"

"I don't think I'm the grimm you want hanging around here." I smiled weakly. "I'll bring more problems than anything else."

He understood immediately. "Our own resident grimm, Nick Burkhardt, I'm sure you've heard of him, has plenty of bounties on his head as well. We'll protect you as we do with him. I will." He reassured me, his hand reaching out to rest comfortingly on mine.

His eyes only convinced me further, the soft look and sudden emotion in them further solidifying my decision. I had the possibility to settle down here. Maybe I wasn't meant to be on the run for the rest of my life after all.

"I guess I could stick around."

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suspicious-whumping-egg · 3 years ago

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*snicker snicker* demand numéro quatre (French for ask number four) well based off your title I’m going to guess you like whump so here’s a whumpy hero x villain ask….. hero wounded and bleeding out, knows that the only place they can go is villains house, upon entry they find villain also recovering from a serious wound,,,, queue two whumpees caretaking for each other :D

Thanks for the request! Tws: gunshot wound and stab wound, mild gore.

Hero kept their hand clenched onto the handle of the knife lodged in their side. Their torso was a bloody mess of agony, the stab wound throbbing furiously over their bruised ribs and battered body. Every instinct screamed at them to yank the blade out, but they knew they’d only begin to bleed to death if they did so. Their enemy had been stupid enough to leave the knife in, they could at least take advantage of that.

They wouldn’t have to do this forever, anyway. They could get help… somehow. Their team had been compromised, and they wouldn’t dare risk the lives of their friends. They pulled their phone out of their pocket with a trembling hand, fumbling to put the password in and smearing blood over the screen as they typed in Villain’s number. The line rang once, twice. Every beat of silence, they desperately hoped Villain would pick up, but they were only met with another ring.

“It’s Villain, I can’t get to the phone, leave me a message but only if it’s urgent,” Villain’s rushed voice said before the line went dead with a beep. They’d clearly recorded their voicemail box in a hurry.

Hero sighed. They were pretty sure their situation counted as urgent.

”Villain, I- I’ve been stabbed,” they choked out, pausing to cough out the blood that had gathered in their throat. “I’m coming over, there’s nowhere else to go…”

They hung up before they could say anything Villain could tease them for, and prayed that these wouldn’t be their last words.

~~~

Hero stumbled into Villain’s apartment complex, their head spinning with pain and exhaustion as their wound radiated angry, burning throbs with every movement. They’d managed to drive one-handed, their body moving on autopilot. They still held the knife inside them, determined to keep from bleeding out, fueled by pure adrenaline and spite. They wouldn’t let themself be killed by something like this.

They knocked on the door, two rapid taps followed by a pause and then a third— their signature knock— before they slid the barrels of the lock into alignment with their mind, effortlessly picking the lock. They didn’t have time for Villain to let them in.

Yet when they stumbled into the apartment, dripping with their own blood, Villain was nowhere to be seen.

”Villain—” they called out weakly, as vertigo swept their body and threatened to consume them. They clenched the knife tighter, their fingers practically frozen in place. I’m not going to die without you by my side.

“Hero?” came the choked response from their rival. Hero turned towards the sound and bit back a gasp when they realized Villain was on the floor, clutching a furiously bleeding leg. “Come to finish the fucking job? Henchman missed their shot and left me to suffer.”

Hero winced.

“I- what? No! I‘m so sorry... I’m not here to kill you, I swear. I just came here ‘cause I’ve- I’ve been stabbed…” They gasped for breath in between words, leaning heavily against Villain’s couch.

“I have nowhere else to go and you’re the only one I know who can help. But uh... just give me a minute. Don’t move.“

Hero shifted their mind‘s focus to the cabinet they knew contained Villain’s medical supplies, and messily flung the first aid kit towards the two of them. Their brain was too clouded over with pain and terror to be precise.

Their hands shook as they opened the box and retrieved a bottle of disinfectant and a handful of hemostatic gauze. “I’m gonna try to deal with this and then I can try and help you,” Hero said through clenched teeth. Bold of you to assume I need help taking care of this now that the first aid kit’s in reach, Villain thought. But they knew the comment would go best left unsaid.

Hero wrapped their hand once more around the knife, their uncontrollable trembling causing them to make sharp, angry cuts along their insides before they managed to slide the blade from their torso with a nasty squelch. They hissed in pain, holding back a louder sob, as blood spurted from the wound in a rapid flood. They took no time before dumping disinfectant over the stab and unleashing a shattered scream at the agony that lit their side. They stuffed the wound with gauze, the pain doubling with the pressure to the wound, and wound tape around their torso. It barely stuck to their skin, slick with blood, but it was good enough for the time being. Good enough that they could help Villain.

They knelt by their rival’s side, wincing at the sharp waves of pain brought by the movement, and examined the gunshot wound in Villain’s thigh. “That looks painful,” they murmured with a sympathetic wince. “I’m sorry about Henchman.”

Villain scoffed, squeezing their eyes shut in agony. “If I’d have just been more careful it would have been fine,” they muttered. “They’ll be the one who’s sorry when I get a hold of them again.” They reached for the bottle, dumping a generous amount of disinfectant over their wound.

“Fuck—“ they gasped out at the blinding intensification of the pain burning through their already-throbbing leg.

“But anyway,” Villain continued. “It looks like the bullet went straight through my leg, fortunately. I’ll be fine other than that it hurts like a bitch, don’t worry about me.“ They wanted Hero to stay, of course. They wanted it proven that they were more than an asset or a convenience. They had to force the next words from their mouth. “If you wanna leave now that you have that stab taken care of…”

Hero silenced them with a sharp glance. “You really think I’d leave you after you were shot?” They almost felt bad that they seemed so heartless. “Honestly, it won’t do either of us good to be alone tonight,” they added on more gently.

Villain nodded. “Fair. Make yourself at home then, I guess. Just gonna finish this up.” They packed the wound with gauze and bandaged it in a similar fashion to how Hero had treated their stab wound. It’d be good enough for the time being.

Hero busied themself in the kitchen, getting a pot of milk started on the stove to make cocoa. “Sorry for intruding,” they said belatedly. “I just…” they sighed. “It looks like we’re both screwed over now, honestly.”

Villain laughed dryly. “I’ll have you over the next time I need someone to point out the obvious,” they quipped.

Hero shrugged. “Well yeah, but it’s true. My whole team is at risk right now, our location’s been released to the fucking public. And then the whole thing with Henchman defecting to Supervillain. It might do some good to lie low and stick together, y’know?”

Hero added a handful of chocolate chips to the pot and rifled in cabinets for cinnamon— it turned out being too high up for them to reach without angering the deep stab in their side. “Looks like the cocoa will be boring,” they muttered.

A few minutes later, they poured the steaming drink into two mugs. They headed to the couch to pass the second mug off to villain before cuddling up beside Villain— only for warmth, of course. It was second nature, but at the same time, more natural than fighting them. “Do you think we’ll be alright?” Hero asked softly. With the military chasing after them to recruit them and Supervillain tracking what felt like their every move, nothing seemed better than crashing at Villain’s place and sleeping for a week.

Villain sighed, stroking Hero’s hair with their free hand and taking a sip of their cocoa. They could call a truce with their nemesis, at least for the time being, if it meant getting some rest. They wouldn’t let Supervillain best them. “I always manage to come out on top, and I’ll bring you with me,” they reassured Hero. “It’s gonna be okay.”

#heroxvillain #blue writes #hero x villain #whump #comfort #I almost never write comfort and it’s my first time writing a stab wound pls don’t judge lmao

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authordgaster · 3 years ago

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A Couple More Age Swaps for my AU

Kana

Age: 20

Class: Nohr Prince/Princess

The oldest member of their generation. A source of kindness and wisdom for their peers, and a force of nature to their enemies. Still absolutely adores their parents.

Is AroAce because yes.

Shigure

Age: 14

Class: Sky Knight

The youngest member of his generation. Loves to ride on the back of his Pegasus, and is incredibly shy. More innocent than his original counterpart, but still has trauma from losing his friends and caretakers.

Shiro

Age: 14

Class: Spear Fighter

Shiro is actually raised by Sakura and Hana in this AU, with Ryoma being a surrogate father. Shiro loves his moms, but he’s still not entirely sure how to feel about his uncle(? Dad???) He picked up a Lance, not to beat either of his moms, but so they could become a perfect type triangle team. (Sakura: Green, Hana: Red, Shiro: Blue)

He’ll still be the one to inherit the Raijinto.

(Sakura will give the Fujin Yumi to her nephew, Kiragi)

Siegbert

Age: 14

Class: Cavalier

Similar to Shiro, Siegbert is Elise and Effie’s son, with Xander being a surrogate father. To Siegbert, it doesn’t matter who’s blood it is specifically that runs through his veins, he loves his moms and his uncle Xander.

He was admittedly a little upset at first when his absolute lack of an aptitude for magic was revealed, but his family supported him regardless, so he picked up a sword and became a Cavalier.

(He’ll one day inherit Siegfried, while Elise passes Brynhildr to her nephew, Forrest)

Midori

Age: 19

Class: Herb Merchant

Midori’s a lot less innocent in this world, having an entire 5 years on her original self. Even so she still retains her kind heart, and her medicinal skills are even more impressive. Her concoctions are still gross to look at though.

Percy

Age: 19

Class: Wyvern Rider

This Percy might be older, but he’s still the biggest dork, aspiring to be a superhero like his father. He still got angry and ran off like his original self, but instead of convincing a band of mercenaries to attack the group, it was the actual bandit band that the mercenaries were looking for that attacked. He’s also gotten really good at how to take advantage of his insane luck.

#authordgaster aus #fire emblem fates #age swap AU #kana #Shigure #Shiro #Siegbert #midoriko #Percy

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forestlingincorporated · 4 years ago

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Teen Titans #29

So, one of my favorite types of fics to read is Different First Meeting fics between Jason and Tim. I looooove reading Enemies To Caretaker, of which I fed handsomely on fairly recently. Big Brother Jason fics give me warm fuzzies, and Tim Drake needs a hug, and I feel like if these two actually got to know each other and worked past their preconceptions, they’d get along surprisingly well. And Still A Jason!Robin Fanboy Tim Drake is just a fun concept.

Also, it just FEELS right for the middle siblings to band together after Damian comes along, lets get those abandonment issues in the party.

So, for mysterious and very secret TimKon Week 2021 reasons, I was rereading some Teen Titans, and I stumbled over the Original Tim+Jason First Meeting, and I just sort of wanted to talk about some interesting things I found in there rereading it after several years.

First thing right off the bat, when reading fics, normally it’s either the Core Four at the tower that Jason puts to sleep, or it’s Tim alone for the night. In the comic, none of Tim’s close friends are even at the tower, Jason waits for Bart and Cassie to leave, and Conner actually hasn’t come around for an in-universe month, because this is after the Superboy’s Birthright arc where Lex mind controls Conner.

The people Jason knocks out were his own teammates when he was a Titan. He specifically says he never got to work with Beast Boy or Cyborg directly, so he doesn’t feel bad electrocuting them, but he feels bad putting Raven under much more gently because she used to worry for him.

Tim has just gotten off the phone with Bruce when Jason shows up. It seems like Bruce might’ve been picking Tim up, but something’s come up with Martian Manhunter going missing, so Tim tells him he’ll catch a ride with Cyborg.

This is actually really interesting to me, because it’s a small moment of Bruce letting Tim down. It’s a conversation he’s probably had with his biological father many times when Jack’s canceled on him.

Gonna acknowledge this abomination real quick. This is So Stupid, and I’m glad as a fandom we just all agreed Jason didn’t do this. It makes me ask so many questions. Where did he get that oversized Robin costume? Why’d he tear off his perfectly good clothes? Why did he do this? Why the yellow tights? WHY?

A lot of things are actually happening here that are actually Really Interesting if you just look past the stupid fucking outfit. Because this comic actually flew really close to greatness, they just ended up dropping the ball by not continuing to do more with it.

First off, Jason doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s immediately like “yeah, yeah, yeah, Red Hood, whatever, I’m Jason Todd, bitch! Fight me.”

Secondly, Jason’s done his homework. He knows A LOT about Tim. He knows his name, he knows he has a dad, he knows he went to prep school, and he knows the story of how Tim became Robin. How he GOT that last bit of information, I’d honestly like to know. But even HAVING the information isn’t enough; he’s still letting his preconceived ideas get in the way. The surface level information about Tim’s life only served to fuel his jealousy and anger (thanks, Lazerus Pitt!). He’s so focused on Tim’s privilege that he’s looked past evidence of hardship; if he’s done this much research on Tim, he’s no doubt seen records of multiple boarding schools, lengthy travel records, news reports, a death certificate.... He can’t even bring himself to BELIEVE parts of Tim’s story that aren’t lining up with his world view, like HOW he became Robin.

Jason has convinced himself that what he’s discovered about Tim and the period of time when Jason was dead - the fact that Bruce was spiraling after his death, that his family mourned him, that Tim had to step up to the plate at a weird suicide prevention buddy system - is all a lie. Despite the fact that he’s beating Tim’s ass, he speaks to him with the assumption that Tim’s a child who’s been manipulated and lied to.

Meanwhile, it must be SO PAINFUL for Tim to hear Jason say these things: I bet he said the same thing to you he said to me, didn’t he? That you have the talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light in his darkness.

Bruce never said any of that to Tim. Bruce rejected Tim, he didn’t want Tim, and begrudgingly accepted Tim.

Going back to Jason waiting for Tim’s other young teen friends to leave the tower before going in, only drugging his own former teammates, is much of his anger seems directed at THEM, not just Bruce. To Jason, it looks like they didn’t mourn him either, he has no statue. I find it interesting that he smashes Donna Troy’s statue, who died after him, and I believe she came back before he did.

Unless he was keeping track of the news from the League of Assassins, to Jason, Donna never died.

And most importantly? Tim shuts Jason down. Tim “Bitch, Please” Drake out here like: you’re a fucking idiot, he loved you to death, he barely let me audition for the role.

Tim shows some deep resentment towards Jason in this scene. I mean... earned, Jason literally came into his house and starting hitting him, but Tim’s relationship towards the Idea Of Jason has gone through a few changes. At first Jason was ROBIN! THE BOY WONDER! And if maybe Tim thought Bruce wasn’t AS happy with Jason as he was with Dick, there was still SOME hero worship early on. But it only takes Bruce and Alfred and Dick using Jason’s death as a cautionary tale a few times to get Tim to see Jason AS a cautionary tale - the kind of Robin NOT to be. But the more Tim craved Bruce’s paternal attention and approval, and the more Bruce withheld it or made Tim work for it, knowing that Bruce did that, in part, because of his love and grief for his dead son (Tim having an actual living breathing father plays a part, too), and those feelings towards Jason have started to fester.

Jason can’t let it go, though, he thinks the concept of Robin was a mistake and had always been a mistake, and if he can hurt Tim, so can Scarecrow, Penguin, The Joker.

This is a good time to bring up that one thing I think Jason probably doesn’t know is Tim is injured. It is a little over a month since since Conner shattered Tim’s right arm. Tim is still healing from a comminuted fracture in his forearm. And looking at this picture that is - ah, yes, that is the injured arm Jason is swinging Tim by. Tim is probably healed by now, the cast IS off and he’s a child, but bones don’t fully return to full strength for 3-6 months.

Jason is conflicted. This is clearly, in part, a fucked up way of “protecting” what he sees as a manipulated child, to convince him to leave Bruce. But there’s also clearly some deep, deep jealousy thrown into the mix to complicate matters and cloud his judgement. Ultimately, Jason isn’t there to kill Tim. Tim would be dead if he was. He’s there to “beat some sense into him,” and he ultimately fails, and fails badly.

Tim is found by the older Titans, awake by now, though it seems Jason knocked him out to, uh, fuck with the memorial chamber, and Tim... does not beat around the bush. No secret identities here just “yeah, Jason Todd beat the shit out of me.”

And their reactions are HILARIOUS.

One more little sidebar, in the comic, Jason gets in with a D.N.A. check that never removed him from its permissions. Usually in fic this is a unique pass code. I’m not sure which version I like better, honestly. There’s something about Jason physically inputting a code that accepts him even though he’s supposedly dead that I really like, and just feels better than a dna scan. A dna scan sounds SAFER, sure, but there’s something about the Titans leaving in an honest SECURITY RISK out of sentiment that I like.

Lastly, I really like how it ends. Jason honestly thinks Tim IS a good Robin, and it seems like Jason’s done some research on the core four, mentioning Tim’s “real friends” again while the “camera” is on Conner and Cassie, suggesting that Jason KNOWS about them and possibly that targeting the tower while they were gone maybe wasn’t an accident or out of convenience, but fully intentional. And again, Jason’s real problem is highlighted: he feels alone, forgotten, unmemorable, no family, no friends.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Teen Titans #Teen Titans (2003-2011)

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